Jolt
by aliasfluffyone
Summary: There's only one thing you can count on when the world is falling apart. Each other. Smith and Jones Days, c 1906.
1. Separation

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

References to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Jolt

There's only one thing you can count on when the world is falling apart. Each other. Smith and Jones Days, 1906.

Chapter 1: Separation

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Hnnh!"

Heyes woke with a snort. He blinked his dark brown eyes in confusion. The faintest touch of rosy gold light outlined the window drapes. Clem lifted her head from his bare chest. Her eyelashes fluttered.

"What was that?" his wife murmured. She scrunched down under the embroidered counterpane pulling the pillow over her head, her soft sleepy words barely audible. "Mmmph. Tell the children it's too early."

"You're stealing the covers," Heyes teased with a fond smirk.

"'m not."

His slender hand reached out. Again. The world shook. Harder this time, and it kept on shaking.

"Augh!

Heyes flew upwards, thrown from the bed. The nimble man twisted in midair and saw Clem claw at the mattress as the bed stood up on end. His shoulder nearly smacked the ceiling and he crossed his arms in front of his face as he plummeted downward.

"Joshua!" the tiny beauty screamed.

The former outlaw landed on the floor with a thump. The fifty-five year old groaned as he rolled onto his back. Brown eyes blinked. The heavy drapes swayed back and forth. Wild flashes of daylight shot through their bedroom. A windowpane shattered. Shards of glass rained down on the floor between Heyes and the eastern side of the room. Other sounds, more breaking glass, bricks falling, screams, assaulted his ears.

"Oomph!"

Clem landed on top of him. Heyes clutched the curvaceous woman to him. Their bed was now in the center of the room. The heavy bureau, formerly against the nearby wall, rampaged towards them like a beast, clomped across the floor on short stubby legs.

"Make the room stop moving!" wailed Clem.

Above them, cracks spread along the ceiling, racing in every direction spreading out and crackling.

"Get under the lintel!"

"What?" her terrified voice ratcheted higher.

"The doorway!"

Heyes rolled Clem off of him. With an inelegant push to her rear, he directed Clem to the hope of safety. The genius followed her frantic scramble. Behind him the bureau crashed, smashed upon the space they had just vacated. A book skittered across the floor to smack against his shin. The blue and white striped pajama trousers he wore offered little padding against the sharp jab. The cozy bedroom reading chair thumped onto its side. Peering past Clem, Heyes could see the mirror on the dressing vanity swing wildly back and forth, but the vanity still remained in its accustomed place against the wall. Heyes reached past Clem for the white porcelain doorknob. Another shove and she was beneath the lintel. He clambered after her into the space beneath the heavy oak door frame.

"Brace yourself," urged Heyes.

He turned and pressed his back against the oak frame and one foot against the other side. Instead of following his example, Clem threw her arms around him.

"Not quite what I meant," said Heyes, but he wasn't complaining.

He wrapped his arms around Clem. Clinging together, they watched the parlor of their three bedroom suite at the Palace Hotel. Broken glass glittered on the Persian rug beneath the once beautiful bay windows overlooking San Francisco. The chandelier above the oval dining table careened back and forth. Clem peered up at him. Hidden among the dark curls, the occasional strand of silver caught the early morning light.

"What's happening?"

"Earthquake," answered Heyes. "Like Silky told us happened last September."

"He said tremors!" protested Clem. "This isn't tremors!"

In the parlor, a chunk of plaster dropped from the ceiling trailing a wake of dust in its descent, crumbling to small pellets that bounced across the floor upon impact.

"Pa!" a boy's voice shouted from the next bedroom. "Ma!"

"Arthur!"

Heedless of the danger, Clem moved to crawl out from their safe haven. Heyes grabbed the silk waistband of her nightgown and hauled her back beneath the relative security of the door frame. The sofa skidded across the parlor mere inches from them and collided hard against the wall. In the room behind them, the vanity toppled to the floor between the bed and the doorway. Arthur's exclamation was followed by a high pitched scream.

"Jennifer!" called Clem.

"It's an earthquake!" shouted Heyes. "Wait! Stay in your beds until it stops shaking!"

Almost as if the world had heard him and chose to obey, the shaking stopped. Clem's hand clutched his, fingers tightening.

"Is it over?" whispered Clem.

"I don't know," Heyes glanced around. The ceiling, walls and furniture seemed to have stopped moving. "Maybe."

A moment later Arthur's bedroom door jerked open, slammed against the wall. Twelve year old Arthur leaned against the doorway dressed in red plaid pajama pants. The adjacent bedroom door opened to reveal Kid's third daughter. Jennifer clutched a well-loved rag doll against the pin tucked bodice of her light blue nightgown. The fearful gaze in her wide blue eyes darted around the room.

"I couldn't stay in bed any longer." The pale boy brushed a hand back through his dark hair. Arthur's face dimpled as he flashed a shaky smile. "You know I'm an early riser."

As one, the adults and children moved towards each other. Clem enveloped Arthur in a tight hug and then reached to pull Jennifer into her embrace. The tiny woman pressed kisses on the children's faces. Heyes reached his long arms around Clem, Arthur and Jennifer. He pulled them all near and breathed in their warm scent. Alive. He breathed a heartfelt whisper, _Thank God!_ The hotel swayed.

"Not again!" Clem snapped her head back in alarm watching the treacherous room.

Heyes narrowed his eyes. The motion stopped, but cracks sprouted alongside the eastern wall of the hotel room. Reaching the upper corner of the window frame, another chunk of plaster fell to the floor. The end of the ornate brass curtain rod dropped free, exposing lathe and leaving the drapery to dangle akilter. The sound of voices shouting and screaming outside wafted through the broken window along with more crashing noises. Outside a big rumble sounded, followed by another crash and more screams.

"Just an aftershock," Heyes' voice sounded husky. He swallowed hard and tried to sound more normal. "Is everyone alright? Is anyone hurt?"

For a moment, no one spoke. Heyes held on tight, feeling the frantic pounding in his chest slow to a steady thump. Then a muffled voice sounded. Arthur squirmed. Heyes loosened his grip. His son stepped back, followed by Jennifer. Clem remained at his side, one arm wrapped around his waist.

"What did you say?"

"Can't breathe," mumbled the boy. Brown eyes twinkled with mischief. Arthur smirked, "It would be a shame if I survived an earthquake only to get hugged to death."

"Hugged to death?" Heyes' lips curled up in an answering grin. "I'll try to make sure that doesn't happen."

Clem gave a shaky chuckle. The tiny woman reached upwards to ruffle Arthur's dark hair. Their son was now an inch taller than Clem.

"You two quit being silly!" admonished Clem.

Silly? Heyes quirked an eyebrow up. Sometimes a body had to laugh, especially at silly jokes, just so as to not have to think about the things that might kill them.

"I wanna go home," blurted out Jennifer. Tousled blonde curls cascaded past the eleven year old's shoulders. Her chin trembled. "Now! I don't want to stay in San Francisco for the rest of the week!"

The two adults exchanged a glance. Attending the Western Library Association meeting in San Francisco had seemed like a perfect opportunity to combine business with pleasure. Heyes, Clem, and the two children arrived at the _Paris of the West_ late Sunday afternoon. Heyes' old friend Silky met their train with his driver and fancy automobile. The four visitors squeezed into the plush back seat of the Lozier Tonneau. Silky donned his goggles with a smirk. _"We've got time for a little tour before supper. Hold on to your hat!"_ Three hours later, the wily old conman finally ordered his driver to take them to the Palace. Monday and Tuesday, Joshua Smith attended the two day conference with his fellow librarians while Clem and the children explored the great city with Silky. The centenarian enjoyed acting as their host. Silky laughed and said that it made him feel young again to have children around. His granddaughters were all grown now. Felicity and her family lived in Los Angeles while Stephanie lived in St. Louis.

"Me too!" nodded Arthur.

"Home sounds like a good idea," soothed Clem. "Right Joshua?"

Heyes looked out the broken window. A trail of devastation led down the slope to the harbor. Dark clouds of smoke, signifying structural fires, not the soft white smoke of a chimney, billowed upwards in several different spots. Some of the roads appeared blocked with rubble. Getting home might not be so easy. And even if they could get to the train, their tickets weren't good until Friday afternoon.

"First things first, let's get out of the Palace," declared the tactician. "Then we go check on Silky."

Clem's hazel eyes widened at the scene outside their hotel window. Her eyes traveled across the floor of the parlor and into their bedroom, littered with chunks of plaster, shards of glass and splintered furniture. She shivered and glanced down. Heyes followed her gaze and found himself staring at four pairs of bare feet. The hemline of her nightgown brushed the tops of her toes.

"No, first get dressed! You're not going outside in your nightclothes," objected Clem. "And wear your brogans!"

"But my new boots...," Arthur began to protest.

"Not those stack heeled boots," interrupted Heyes. Remembering the dainty calfskin shoes Jennifer had worn to the opera last night, he turned from his son to face the girl, "And no party slippers like Cinderella."

"But..." spluttered two young voices in dismay.

"There's no telling how far we may have to walk."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Wait up a minute," called Kid.

The little group from Thunder Ridge halted and turned to look at the tall man. Kid rolled his broad shoulders and tried not to yawn. The fifty-one year old hadn't slept a wink since they boarded the train in Porterville. Truthfully, he'd hardly slept since Eliza had received the letter from her professor. The security conscious man tugged white cuffs out from the edge of his gray pinstriped suit coat and looked to either side to assess his surroundings. The other passengers disembarking from the train hurried past them out of the train station.

"What for?" grumbled Wheat.

Aside from the steely salt and pepper hair upon Wheat's head, the burly former outlaw looked much like he always had, a little disgruntled and belligerent. Unlike Kid, Wheat hadn't bothered to change into city clothes for the visit to Laramie. Wheat's brown trousers and faded duster contrasted sharply with the richly hued fabric of his wife's travelling suit. Kid carefully shut the locker door, leaving his rolled up holster beneath his blue jeans and sheepskin jacket. Normally he would have had a derringer in his suit pocket, but that had gone with Heyes to San Francisco leaving Kid unarmed this morning.

"I just want to make sure everyone knows to meet back here by one o'clock," reminded Kid.

"Why so soon?" demanded Wheat. "You know doctor visits always take a while and I want to look around Laramie afterwards."

Kid started to answer, but Martha's maroon clad elbow met her husband's ribs. Wheat gave a soft grunt. She pointed to the wall clock mounted above the ticket window. Early morning light reflected on the glass face making it hard to see the big black hands pointing to twelve minutes after six.

"Your appointment is at eight," reminded Martha. She sniffed. "I hope to be in the Three Rules store by nine. When we're finished there, we can go to Durlacher's."

"Dress shopping?" Wheat looked appalled.

"Maybe, and you need a new coat too," reminded the gray haired woman. Her thin lips spread across her face in a cheerful smile. "Afterwards, we can have a nice luncheon at Frank Eggleston's Drug Store. You remember, the place that makes those cherry sodas."

"The soda parlor?" Wheat's lack of enthusiasm was evident.

"Or we could come back here to the Union Pacific Hotel and Depot," offered Martha. "If we're back here before noon, you'll have time for a steak dinner with all the trimmings before we get on the northbound train at one forty five."

"I vote for steak," piped up Kyle. The small man pushed heavy horn rimmed glasses up on his nose. Blue eyes magnified by thick lenses gazed back at Kid. "But what are we gonna do about breakfast?"

"Oh I couldn't possibly eat breakfast," murmured Eliza.

The slim young lady at Kid's side shook her head, golden curls flying back and forth. Kid looked at his oldest daughter in shock.

"What? No breakfast?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	2. Watching

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

References to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 2: Watching

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"This is taking too long," muttered Heyes. "Everything is taking too long!"

Heyes looked down at his pocket watch in concern. By the time they'd dressed, packed essentials they could carry in their carpet bags, and started out from their room, it was nearly six. They'd met Heyes' old friend Diego on the landing. The aging concierge was checking room by room for hotel guests. _"Hotel management is urging all our guests to evacuate the building, but you will have to take the stairs. Our elevators are not operating."_ Heyes realized not much else was working when they finally made it down six flights of stairs to reach the street. There was no electricity, the quake broke gas and water mains throughout the city. From snatches of conversation between the desk clerk and another hotel guest standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel, Heyes learned telephones and telegraph service were out too. And, as he had feared, there were no automobiles and carriages available for hire. They were walking.

"It's already after seven!"

"Just be patient," soothed Clem.

The ruffled cuff of her white shirt peeked out from beneath the sleeve of her dark blue travelling suit. Clem reached up to brush a stray strand of hair back from his face. Heyes inhaled a faint scent of her vanilla perfume.

"Patient? It took over twenty minutes just to make it to the fountain," grumbled Heyes. The calculating man tucked the pocket watch back into his vest pocket. "And now we're just standing around waiting."

"The children need water and so do we," reminded Clem. "Besides, it wasn't a straight walk. The policemen detoured everyone."

The sporadic fires Heyes glimpsed from the Palace window had united in a great wall of flame. Fire engines roared past the evacuees, alarm bells clanging. Smoke filled the air. Mounted policemen patrolled the streets, urging everyone to head away from the harbor. Anyone without a place to stay was being directed to refugee camps set up at the Golden Gate Park or the Presidio. Those in need of emergency medical aid were being transported away from the danger zone. Some lucky folk rode in carriages or automobiles. Most walked. A few determined souls joined the policemen, firemen and Army troops headed into the maelstrom. Heyes heard snatches of worried talk. _"The Post Office collapsed." "I heard armed soldiers shot a looter!" "I heard the ferry terminal fell into the harbor!" "The American Hotel is flattened!"_

"We need to get out of here," insisted Heyes.

"Can you see the children?" Clem changed the subject. "Are they close?"

Heyes stood on tiptoe. He pushed the brim of his brown bowler hat back on his head. Dark brown eyes squinted.

"This useless hat doesn't have enough of a brim to shade my eyes," grumbled Heyes.

"It goes well with your dress suit," smiled Clem. "And I think the feather in the band is dashing."

"Dashing?" Heyes couldn't help but smirk. With a teasing tone, he asked, "Not flighty?"

"Dashing and stylish," insisted Clem firmly. "Besides, you couldn't wear your old black hat and riding clothes to the conference…"

Clem rambled on. Through the throng of people Heyes could make out the fountain on Market and Geary Street. Unlike crumbled brick walls, or the flattened Cadillac they'd passed with its tires splayed out on either side, the cast iron fountain appeared untouched. He could just barely see his son. Dressed in blue jeans, a dark button down shirt and an even darker jacket, Arthur would have been unrecognizable in the crowd except for the sword jutting up over the slim, dark haired boy's shoulder. Heyes' old friend Han Li presented the blade to Arthur after dinner Monday. The ceremonial weapon rested between Arthur's shoulder blades, sheathed in an ornately tooled scabbard with a bright red tassel dangling from the end.

"Good thing Arthur insisted on bringing the Dao with him," murmured Heyes as he sank back down on his heels. "Otherwise I don't know if I would have been able to pick him out in this crowd. He's almost to the front of the fountain."

"What about Jennifer?" demanded Clem. "Where is she?"

"Can't miss her, she's right beside Arthur," soothed Heyes.

Jennifer stood nearly as tall as Arthur. In the early morning light, the girl's gold blond curls shone like a beacon, her white dress smudged with gray soot on one sleeve. Both children carried tin cups embossed with _Souvenir of San Francisco._ The cups weren't a canteen, but they would have to do until they reached Silky's home.

"Can you tell if the fountain is flowing?" Clem fretted. "I don't want them drinking water from the reservoir basin."

"Better than no water," growled Heyes.

His dark eyes glanced down to the luggage stacked by his feet. Heyes scowled. Jennifer's calfskin slippers were visible along with her rag doll and a phonograph record peeking out of the topmost carpetbag. The other bags were similarly crammed with clothing and what few items they deemed worth carrying. A moment's regret for the broken telescope and the three crates of books abandoned in the Palace flitted through his mind and vanished. Things weren't important, and neither was money now. The thick wad of money in his wallet couldn't purchase what they needed, food, water, a couple of good horses and tack.

"The children ate their chocolate. Now you eat yours," urged Clem.

The petite woman handed Heyes a broken piece of a Ghirardelli's bar. Clem purchased the treat yesterday, intending to take it back to Thunder Ridge. While walking from the Palace to the fountain, she'd handed out pieces of candy to Arthur and Jennifer.

"I can't believe you gave the children chocolate for breakfast." Heyes shook his head disparagingly.

"Better than no breakfast," retorted Clem.

Her lips curled up in a smirk as she used almost his same words about water. Heyes nodded in agreement, remembering days on the run with no water and no breakfast.

"I suppose you would rather have hardtack?" teased Clem.

Heyes bit into the sweet candy and chewed as his wife kept talking. Watchful eyes scanned the crowd as he swallowed the last of his chocolate. For the most part, frightened, dazed people clung to each other for support. But on one side of the crowd, a broad shouldered man with a hat pulled low over his brow slouched against a crumbled stone wall. The man turned his head as Heyes' wary gaze reached him. Had the big man been watching them? Or just watching the crowd in general? Heyes didn't know why, but the sight of that man brought a cold sick feeling to his stomach. The gambler learned long ago to trust his instincts, and his partner's. Slender fingers patted one side of his brown herringbone suit coat. Kid insisted the librarian take the concealed derringer with him on the trip as a security precaution. Today he was glad he'd accepted Kid's suggestion. Heyes only hoped he wouldn't need the weapon.

"Joshua?"

"Huh?" the worried man shook his head, startled. Heyes looked down at Clem. "What did you say?"

"Joshua," repeated Clem with a huff. "Didn't you hear a word I said? I asked you, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" In an outburst born of frustration, Heyes thrust out his hand in a sweeping gesture, bringing his arm around in a wide circle. "Everything is wrong. We just had an earthquake! People are dead! The whole city is broken, buildings, roads, water mains, gas mains, everything!"

Clem leaned in closer. She placed her hands upon his chest and looked up at him. Heyes could almost hear Kid's voice, _"She's battin' her eyelashes again! You know that means trouble!"_

"Not everything," objected Clem. Small hands tugged his vest straight and held on. Her hazel eyes shone with a fierce glow of determination. "We're not broken. Arthur, Jennifer, you and me, we're right here, right now."

Clem smiled, bringing a dimpled response to his own face. Heyes lowered his head, searching for affirmation. Their lips met. Warmth, a tangle of tongues, the taste of life and love, sweeter than chocolate.

"Pa!"

Heyes' head jerked up. Behind Clem, the children stood holding cups of water. Arthur gawked at his parents. Jennifer handed a cup of water to Clem and discreetly looked away. Some of the other people milling about on the sidewalk were openly gaping. Heyes flushed at the unexpected intrusion, but Clem's kiss reminded him, right here, right now, all was not lost.

"Right, it's time to go now," nodded Heyes taking charge.

It had been a long time since he'd had to lead an escape, but the canny man hadn't forgotten any survival skills. The only difference, this time Kid wasn't there to watch his back. He gulped down the water his son offered. Heyes gestured in the general direction of Silky's Nob Hill home. Now to check on their old friend, then get outta this town.

"Let's get moving."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Are you nervous?" prodded Kid.

Shortly after eight, the watchful man and his daughter walked up the sandstone steps together. The imposing university building was bigger than any building in Thunder Ridge or Porterville. Kid twisted the brass knob and pushed the door open. Eliza's long pale blue skirt, ankle length now as befitted a young lady, brushed against him as she entered Old Main.

"A little," hedged Eliza. She stopped, looked over at her father and shrugged. "A lot actually. My stomach is fluttering."

"Pushing your food around your plate like Joshua when he's distracted ain't a good way to start the day," insisted Kid.

"I couldn't eat," gulped Eliza. "Professor Baggins didn't say why she wanted to see me in person."

Kid removed his gray Homberg and followed her inside. A swift glance to the left and then to the right showed wide corridors with gleaming polished wood floors. No one was there at this early hour. His jaw tightened. The muscular man felt out of place. If anyone saw them, Kid felt they would surely order him out. His fancy gray suit couldn't disguise the fact that he didn't belong here. Kid and Eliza approached the teacher's small office. Golden light spilled out through the open door onto the floorboards. Eliza stopped and looked up at her father. Her bottom lip trembled with a shaky half smile. Kid flashed a warm, confident smile at his daughter. He might not belong here, but she did.

"Go on. Knock on the door and say hello," encouraged Kid. He leaned back against the wall to wait, and crossed one foot casually crossed over the other. "You'll be fine. I'll be watching for you right here."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	3. Shock

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

References to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Jolt

Chapter 3: Shock

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Almost there," encouraged Heyes.

No one answered. Heyes stopped walking and turned to look over his shoulder. He gave a sigh of exasperation. A steady stream of people trudged along California Street. Clem smiled at him as she neared. The children lagged further behind. Heyes dropped his bag with a thump. He set Clem's carpet bag on top of his own and then crossed his arms over his chest while he waited for his family to catch up.

"You were supposed to be right behind me," Heyes muttered when Clem reached him.

"I slowed down to admire the view."

"View?"

His wife flashed a saucy smirk and Heyes found himself blushing.

"It wouldn't hurt if you slowed down too," added Clem in a practical tone of voice. "You've got longer legs than the children and I do."

The tiny woman waited with him on the cracked pavement. A wrought iron fence surrounded the imposing mansion beside them. Buckled metal sagged in a few places, but otherwise the huge building seemed unscathed. A shiny black roadster weaved slowly in and out of pedestrians thronging the wide thoroughfare. Arthur and Jennifer reached them. Their son dropped his carpet bag next to his parent's bags and stretched his arms out. Flexing his fingers, the inquisitive boy looked around and gave a low whistle.

"Look at those lions," exclaimed the twelve year old.

Arthur tilted his head back to get a better look. Heyes turned as well. Crouching stone creatures flanked the imposing doors of the mansion. Even at this distance, Heyes could make out the regal head and closed mouth.

"Impressive," agreed Heyes with a wide smile. "You wouldn't want something like one of those critters jumping on you."

Behind him, Heyes heard Jennifer give a small squeal of alarm. He spun around on his heels and dropped to his knees. Nimble fingers grasped the phonograph record that tumbled from Jennifer's open carpet bag. The girl gave a sigh of relief as he held the recording of Carmen up to her.

"You're trying to carry too much Jennifer, you're dropping things," chided Heyes.

"No, I'm not," insisted the girl. Jennifer pointed at a big man moving up the street. "He knocked into me."

Heyes caught a glimpse of the figure as the man reached the corner. He wore a dark hat and clutched his right arm tight against his chest. It looked like the same man Heyes saw watching them at the fountain. But before Heyes could tell for sure, Clem stepped forward. Her voluminous blue skirt blocked his view. The fashionable woman gave a little squawk of surprise when Heyes placed his hands on her hips to press her skirt against her body. Heyes peered around her, but his view of the man disappeared between the sweeping skirts of two other woman.

"What do you think you're doing?" huffed Clem. "Come on now, get up."

The petite woman stepped closer to Jennifer, leaving Heyes to rub his aching knees. He made his way upright and scanned the crowd, but the man was gone.

"Oh Jennifer," sighed Clem. "Everybody's in a rush. I'm sure that man didn't mean to bump you. Let's get your clothing moved around and see we can get the bag to close."

While Clem redistributed the contents of Jennifer's bag, the gleaming black automobile pulled passed them and parked in front of mansion's ornate entrance. At the top of the marble steps, the wide doors opened. A man dressed in a neat black suit escorted an elderly woman down the steep stairs.

"Wish we could ride in that," murmured Arthur. "I'm sure it's a Jarvis!"

Heyes rolled his eyes. Automobiles fascinated the boy. Arthur often spent time at Kid's workshop tinkering with the machinery. Heyes thought the flimsy contraptions were fast, but he'd rather have a good horse. Hooves could take a person places that an auto could never go.

"I don't think they're gonna have room for us," chuckled Heyes.

A gesture of his hand turned his son's gaze back to the mansion. A trio of younger women come out of the house. They followed the older woman to the car. One woman wore a full white apron over her dress, identifying her as a cook. The other two wore smaller aprons and one carried a covered birdcage. Heyes smiled as he watched the woman and her staff all clamber into the roadster together.

"If we're lucky, Silky will give us a ride to the train station in his Tonneau," added Heyes in a hopeful tone.

Cable cars weren't working. They had passed twisted tangles of metal that once were tracks. For all Heyes knew the trains weren't working either, but he had to believe that they wouldn't need to walk back to Wyoming. Heyes' sharp ears heard the latch on Jennifer's carpet bag snap shut as the automobile slowly pulled away.

"There, all set," declared Clem with a sound of satisfaction. Heyes found Jennifer's rag doll thrust into his hands. "Joshua, if you'll just carry this, we can get moving again."

"Huh?"

"Promise you won't lose her," beseeched Jennifer, her blue eyes wide.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather carry Emily Anne yourself?" asked Heyes in a gentle voice.

Many girls Jennifer's age put aside their childhood toys, but Jennifer still treasured her beloved rag doll. Her mother made the doll with yellow yarn hair, blue button eyes and a gingham dress. In Heyes mind, Emily Anne looked like Jennifer at three.

"No, I've gotta carry the record. It's a present for Mama, and Clem packed clothes all around to pad it," explained Jennifer. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course I don't mind. I'll take good care of Emily Anne for you," promised Heyes.

Heyes tucked the doll inside his coat, securing it against his chest beneath his left suspender. Emily Anne's feet wound up in the same pocket as the derringer. Raising his hand, lithe man pointed.

"We turn at the corner," began Heyes. "Head up Taylor Street and then turn onto Pleasant…"

"We know," interrupted Arthur with a grin. "We've been to Silky's home before."

Arthur hoisted his carpet bag up. The boy and Jennifer exchanged a glance. Wordlessly, they turned together and started towards the corner at a brisk pace. Clem pressed a small hand against Heyes' sleeve and smiled fondly.

"He's got your sense of direction."

"Yeah," nodded Heyes. "And it looks like the children have got their second wind. We better hurry up and keep them in sight or they're liable to go back home without us."

"Don't be silly," admonished Clem, but she marched forward.

Heyes picked up their carpetbags and hurried to catch up with his wife. They turned onto the narrower Taylor Street. There weren't as many people on this street, but families loading carts made it hard to get around. Heyes and Clem pressed their way forward, but they couldn't catch up to the two children.

"Arthur, Jennifer, wait up!" called Heyes as the children reached Pleasant Street.

"I can't see them," fretted Clem. The tiny woman stood on tiptoe, craning her neck. "Can you see them?"

Before Heyes could answer, the world shook. For the second time that morning, Heyes found himself flat on his back. Panicked screams filled the air. The aftershock quit just as abruptly as it started. Heyes scrambled to his hands and knees and found himself nose to nose with Clem.

"The children!" both said.

Rising, Heyes pushed his way around the last cart. His wife hurried after him. Heyes heard another shrill scream that seemed to stand out from all the other noise around him.

"Let go!" screeched Jennifer.

Heyes' raced around the corner only to come to a complete halt. A deep crevasse gouged the near vacant street before him. A moment later Clem smacked into him from behind. They clutched at each other, tottering on the edge of the fissure. On the opposite side of the cracked earth, a big man tugged on Jennifer's carpetbag. The blonde wouldn't let go. A dark hat obscured the man's face. A few feet beyond Jennifer, a dazed Arthur clawed his way upright. A small trickle of blood ran down his forehead. The boy staggered to his best friend's aid.

"Leave her alone!" shouted Arthur.

The man's left hand remained firmly on Jennifer's carpetbag. The man shoved Arthur backwards with his right arm. The boy flailed for balance. Jennifer howled. Heyes fumbled for the derringer, but Emily Anne blocked his grasping fingers. Clem picked up a rock and threw it. Shouts echoed. _"Leave the kid alone! What do you think you're doing?"_ The man's opportunity to steal the carpet bag vanished as someone approached from a nearby yard. The man shoved the bag at Jennifer, pushing her into Arthur. The two children fell backwards landing hard on the pavement. Running towards Taylor Street, the man jumped the crevasse and came face to face with Hannibal Heyes.

"I'll bet you don't even remember me," sneered the man, his lips curled up in contempt.

Dark brown eyes narrowed first in recognition, then in rage. Joe Briggs was a bully. Few men ever dared push his partner so far. Heyes remembered the calm, fatalistic tone of Kid's voice at his final confrontation with the disagreeable man. The chill tone, as much as the words, still made the hairs on the back of Heyes' neck prickle. _"I might even kill you."_

"Twenty-five years ago you terrorized defenseless farmers trying to vote," Heyes' lips pressed tight in a mirthless smile. "Now you're picking on little girls?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"New York?"

Kid forced himself to keep his tone carefully neutral and maybe just a touch puzzled. Students and other teachers bustled about the busy corridor. Morning classes were due to start soon. The patient man pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning against and stood up straight to face his daughter and her professor.

"I thought we were in Laramie because you wanted to go to the university here?"

Eliza's bright blue eyes were level with his own. Kid could tell Eliza was trying very hard to stand still, but she kept shifting from one foot to another. A decorous young lady of sixteen almost seventeen probably shouldn't jump up and down in excitement in the middle of a university hallway. The tall blonde young woman clenched a paper tightly in her hand. Eliza grinned and waved the paper in front of his face. The professor stepped through the door to stand beside Eliza.

"Papa…"

"I hope you don't mind," interrupted Professor Baggins. "I took the liberty of sending Eliza's test results to the college along with a recommendation letter."

Professor Baggins, a short plump woman wearing a pleated white linen shirtwaist and a flounced brown circular skirt, beamed. Through the open office door, Kid could see the instructor's office. Cluttered with papers, folders, and a heavy brown envelope with several stamps upon it, Kid could barely see the desk. A double breasted jacket in the same brown fabric as the woman's skirt hung from the back of her chair. Heavily laden bookshelves lined the wall behind her desk.

"That's why she wanted to see me in person," grinned Eliza.

"Eliza has been accepted to the Women's Medical College for the fall semester," nodded the older woman. "She'll receive full credit for the correspondence courses she's already completed, making her a sophomore on admission."

Kid clenched his jaw in a semblance of a smile. Eliza graduated from the little school in Thunder Ridge last spring. His daughter should have started at the school in Laramie the previous September, instead of taking courses by mail. However, with everything that happened last year Eliza stayed home to help out.

"The fall semester?" echoed Kid.

"Classes start the first week of September actually," clarified Baggins. "There will be dormitory fees, but all tuition expenses are covered by the scholarship. Dormitories open before school begins, so Eliza will need to be in New York by the end of August at the latest."

A loud bell clanged. One by one students disappeared into rooms, doors thumped shut, the corridor cleared. Kid, Eliza and Professor Baggins stood for a moment outside her office.

"You'll have to excuse me. I've got a class to teach," murmured Professor Baggins with a soft smile. "Congratulations again Eliza."

Kid's blue eyes blinked as he stared after the woman who just changed their lives.

"Papa?"

The uncertain voice of his oldest daughter shocked Kid from his daze. The tall blond turned to face Eliza. His daughter's teeth were pressed against her bottom lip in a hesitant manner.

"I know we never talked about me going so far away for school, but…," began Eliza.

"I'm real happy for you Eliza," interrupted Kid with a broad smile. He stepped close and drew her into a warm hug. His blue eyes blinked again, but she couldn't see. The quiet man spoke, his soft voice muffled by her curls. "Your mother will be real pleased too."

Turning away, Kid steered his daughter down the hallway. Stepping outside into the bright April morning, Kid rubbed a hand across his face. When he lowered his hand, he caught Eliza staring at him again.

"Are you sure you're happy? Really happy?"

"Of course I'm happy!" insisted Kid. "The light bothered my eyes."

He ran a finger along the inside edge of his stiff white collar and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Wishing for his familiar brown hat, he lifted the citified headgear that went with his formal gray suit and settled it upon his curls.

"Let's head back towards the train station," Kid urged. "I'll be even happier when we get back home and I can get outta this suit."

A short while later Kid and Eliza entered the depot restaurant. Dishes smashed to the floor somewhere in the background as they made their way across the crowded room. Eliza sank down into the chair across from Wheat. Kid pulled out a chair and sat down next to his daughter. On the other side of the table, Wheat's ashen face stared at the paper in his hands. Martha clutched her husband's arm and Kyle leaned against his partner's other side. Concerned, Kid hedged his question, not wanting to embarrass his old friend.

"What did that fancy doctor have to say about your heart?"

Wheat dropped the paper on the table. His face flushed with irritation.

"That fella had the gall to tell me not to go rounding up horses anymore!" spluttered Wheat. "The only thing special about him is his prices!"

The oldest member of the former Devil's Hole gang reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of tiny pills.

"Told me to take one of these little ole Trintrin things if I had any more pain," groused Wheat. "Same medicine Doc Abernathy prescribed!"

"Good," sighed Kid. The lean, muscular man relaxed back against the cushioned chair and reached for the menu. "You looked so pale, for a minute I thought something was wrong."

Across from him, three faces looked at him in concern. A babble of voices tried to explain.

"The news…"

"...earthquake..."

"California…"

"An earthquake in California?" echoed Kid.

The menu slipped from his fingers. Kid hoped he'd heard wrong. Wheat gulped. Kyle blinked, while Martha nodded in confirmation.

"Real big 'un," added Wheat.

For a moment there was silence as the close knit group from Thunder Ridge stared at each other. Kid sucked in a deep breath, but before he could ask the question his daughter spoke up.

"Where in California?" whispered Eliza.

"San Francisco," blurted out Kyle.

"Not just San Francisco," objected Martha. "The whole state…"

Again Wheat, Martha and Kyle all tried to talk at once. Kid reached across the table and plucked the newspaper from beneath Wheat's hand. Turning the special edition to face him, Kid began reading. The news wasn't good. Western Union Telegraph Company had an agent perched on a pole in Oakland providing a first-hand account. Earthquake. People killed. Buildings collapsed. Fire. Kid closed his eyes at the memory of fires in that crowded town where ramshackle buildings were built leaning against each other for support. The news of Eliza going to college in New York was just a little tremor in his world, this was something of a totally different magnitude. Heyes, Clem, Arthur and his little Jennifer were all in danger. Blue eyes looked up from the paper to see the railway timetable on the wall. The next departure that connected with a westbound train showed as on time. That gave him just enough time to see Eliza off on the northbound train.

"The hotel they're staying at is built strong, I'm sure they're fine," Kid tried to sound confident for Eliza's benefit. "But I'm gonna go to San Francisco."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	4. A Board and Aboard

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

References to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Jolt

Chapter 4: A Board and Aboard

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I had a job to do in West Bend," Briggs' face twisted in a snarl. "A job you and your partner interfered with."

"Huh? We didn't," spluttered Heyes in astonishment. "And what's that got to do with you trying to steal Jennifer's carpet bag?"

"The kid is carrying something for you…," hissed Briggs. "I trailed you and your partner from West Bend…"

"Arthur!"

Clem's panicked cry distracted Heyes. He took his eyes off Briggs and looked across the street. Their son lay motionless on the road. Jennifer knelt beside Arthur, patting his face, calling his name. In that instant, Briggs shoved past Heyes. The mastermind let his old nemesis go. There were more important things to do than worry about a bully trying to steal luggage. Heyes wondered if Clem had even heard his exchange with Briggs. His wife's tiny hand grasped at his sleeve.

"The crack is too big for me to jump. Go see what's wrong," urged Clem.

Briggs had taken a running leap to jump the crevasse. Looking down, the fissure appeared over twelve feet deep in places. Shifting sand and gravel from the recent tremor still trickled downwards into the darkness. Clem's smaller legs, hampered by long skirts, couldn't jump the width. Climbing down and then back up might be possible, but Heyes didn't like that idea. The planner glanced to the left. The gouge in the earth widened as it spread across the road to the house on the corner and down the sloping hill. A glance to the right showed the fissure narrowed as it reached the opposite house. The shattered structure didn't seem stable. As he watched, chimney bricks toppled down and bounced across the yard, some falling into the crevasse others bounding across the gap. Broken boards littered the yard on both sides of the chasm. The quick thinking tactician realized immediately what he had to do to get them both to their son and Jennifer. Heyes grabbed Clem's hand.

"We'll both go across." At Clem's surprised look, Heyes added. "Come on, we'll make a bridge."

A few quick steps brought them to a large board. Heyes released his grip on Clem and picked up the plank. The strategist angled it across the gaping stone maw so it would lie almost level. Heyes stepped forward, gingerly pressing one foot on the shaking board. The lithe man placed his second foot on the board and extended his hands for balance. The board bounded with each step. For a moment he was reminded of a time when he and Kyle placed dynamite on a decrepit trestle bridge.

"Are you out of your mind?" protested Clem. "That board will break!"

"Nothing to it," grinned Heyes. He took another step.

"You'll fall! The earth will close up on you…"

The graceful man pranced lightly across the board to the other side. Heyes turned and grinned at his wife. Clem's frantic objections trailed off and stopped.

"This little old gully isn't going to close up on us," assured Heyes with a confident tone.

The slender man extended his hand outwards and beckoned. Clem looked down at the huge hole between them, and then glanced towards the children. Further down the street, the blonde girl tugged Arthur upwards. The boy swayed awkwardly to one side. Clem brought her hazel eyes back to Heyes. She gulped.

"Did I ever tell you I'm afraid of heights?"

"No," Heyes soft voice whispered. "You're the bravest woman I know. I can't imagine you being scared of anything."

"Heights," quavered Clem. The tiny woman looked down and lifted her skirts. Carefully she placed one dainty foot on the board. "Snakes…"

"Don't look down," urged Heyes.

Clem raised her face to look at him again. Dropping her skirts she brushed back a loose tendril of hair from her eyes. She took another tentative step and reached her arm out towards him.

"Earthquakes," added Clem. Her chin jutted out determinedly and she took another step towards him, keeping her eyes focused on his face. "I'm definitely adding earthquakes to the list."

"Keep looking at me," coaxed the silver tongue. "I'm right here… Arthur… and Jennifer…"

Two tiny steps and Clem's fingertips brushed against his. Half a step more and Heyes' slender fingers grasped her wrist. The board creaked. Clem wobbled and then she was in his arms and Heyes found himself able to breathe again.

"And most of all, strange men that know you and Thaddeus from your outlaw days!" whispered Clem in his ear. "Joshua, who was that man?"

Heyes hadn't recognized Briggs until they were face to face. It had been more than twenty years since he and Kid waited for MacCreedy's bust to show up in a well. The bully's weathered face hadn't changed much, the cross expression, frown lines and a sneer now appeared to be permanently etched into his visage. The broad shouldered man must have seen him at the fountain, but why follow him? Had Briggs really said he trailed Smith and Jones from West Bend to San Francisco?

"Joe Briggs, but we didn't meet him until we were trying for amnesty. He only knows me as Joshua Smith," reassured Heyes. "Don't worry, he's gone now."

Clem pulled back from his embrace. Her hazel eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together in a tight frown. The curl she had pushed back earlier was now dangling loose again from her upswept hair. Heyes could tell his wife had more questions. And quite frankly, Heyes wanted to know why Briggs followed them and tried to steal Jennifer's carpetbag. But now wasn't the time. He carefully brushed back his wife's loose curl with gentle fingers, tucking the errant strand behind her ear.

"Maybe we should check on the children," suggested Heyes.

Clem eyes widened. The tiny woman pushed away from Heyes and looked towards Arthur and Jennifer. The boy was sitting upright, rubbing his head.

"Arthur!"

The diminutive brunette spun around and raced off. Petticoats flashed. Heyes hurried to catch up.

"Unnh," groaned Arthur.

"Are you all right?" fretted Clem.

The worried mother crouched on her knees and took Arthur's face in both hands. Clem inspected her son for signs of harm, tapping on his head, peering into his dark brown eyes. Jennifer stood to one side. The girl's once white dress was streaked with dirt.

"'m fine," protested Arthur. "Just winded when that man pushed us down."

"You're not fine, you're bleeding." Clem took a handkerchief from a side pocket and began dabbing at Arthur's forehead despite his protests. "And you've got a huge goose egg on the back of your head!"

"Ma… mmph," protested Arthur.

"The hilt of that sword…," grumbled Clem.

Another sound of outrage erupted from the twelve year old. Heyes swallowed a smirk and looked at Jennifer.

"Jennifer, are you alright?"

The child didn't seem to hear him. She stepped over to where her carpetbag lay on the road. Jennifer knelt down and quickly searched through the contents, pulling clothing left and right. A petticoat, pantaloons, a pale blue shirtwaist and brown riding pants flew out of the bag, landing beside Arthur's carpet bag on the ground behind her. The frantic search stopped when she reached the record.

"It's not broken!"

An amazed smile lit up Jennifer's face. She clutched the gift for her mother to her chest with a sigh of relief.

"Jennifer," Heyes called once more. This time he was rewarded with a blue eyed gaze turned to look at him. "Are you alright?"

The girl nodded. Heyes started to ask Jennifer if Briggs had said anything, but the child turned back to her bag and hurriedly began to stuff the clothing back around her treasure. The slow moving, white haired man approaching from the house at the end of Pleasant Street became recognizable. Heyes grinned and pointed. Now maybe they'd get outta this town.

"Silky," called Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"But Papa! I wanna help!" pleaded Eliza.

Kid hadn't bothered to change out of his city suit. For a trip to San Francisco, he couldn't wear his regular clothes or carry his colt. The muscular man had retrieved his gear earlier. The neatly tied package tucked under his left arm held his jeans, a blue shirt, his sheepskin jacket, gun belt and revolver with the brown floppy hat placed carefully on top. The Homberg dangled from his fingertips.

"I know, but you still ain't going to San Francisco," stated Kid firmly.

Kid raked his right hand through his curls in exasperation as they climbed the stairs to the loading platform. His headstrong daughter thought her experience tending the ill during last year's epidemic at Thunder Ridge might be of use in San Francisco. Kid hated to see the hurt look in her eyes when he told her she wasn't coming with him.

"But Jennifer, and Josh'a, and Clem and Arthur…"

Kid pressed his lips tight together, willing his face to remain emotionless as his daughter called out the names of each of their endangered loved ones. He wouldn't risk adding any more names to that list. The boarding call for Gabble Junction, Porterville and all points north sounded again.

"Wheat, make sure Eliza gets home safely," ordered Kid. He took a stepped back away from them. "Martha…"

"Come on Eliza," coaxed Wheat's wife. "Your father has to go catch his train."

The maroon clad matron stepped close to the slim girl. Martha's plump fingers patted Eliza's arm. Wheat tugged on his ear and tilted his head to one side. His long brown duster flapped behind his legs in the stiff breeze.

"The paper did say the city needed folks to help with looting…," began Wheat.

"And experienced dynamiters to fight fires," chimed in Kyle with an eager nod.

The small man tugged the heavy gun belt at his waistline upwards, settling his pants against his bony hips. Wheat turned to face Kid with a tentative expression on his face.

"We was thinking about goin' with you," added Wheat. "To help."

Kid shot a blue eyed glare at Wheat and Kyle. Although he appreciated his friend's gesture of support, the fifty-one year old figured he'd travel faster on his own. And if Kid had to search through a disaster area, he didn't want to be looking for Wheat and Kyle as well. Martha's jaw dropped in surprise.

"Johannes! Not you! The paper said the mayor has already called in _army regiments_ to control looting," Martha protested.

"I was in the army once…"

"No," objected Kid. "Someone has to escort Eliza and Martha home."

Wheat and Kyle exchanged a glance. Kyle glanced at Martha and seemed to shrink a bit at her stony expression. The smaller man looked back at his partner. Wheat lowered his shoulders and began a whispered argument with Kyle. Eliza jerked free of Martha's grasp and strode towards Kid, while Martha moved towards her husband.

"I don't need an escort!" hissed Eliza in a low voice that only he could hear.

"You don't," agreed Kid. His strong, athletic daughter was quite capable of taking care of herself. Kid thought quickly. "But Wheat is ten years older than Joshua. Do you really want a sixty-six year old man with angina travelling all the way to California to fight off looters?"

Eliza's mouth dropped open for a moment. Kid pressed his advantage.

"There are lots of ways to help folks," coaxed Kid.

For a moment Eliza didn't say anything, then she took a deep breath.

"You're right Papa," agreed Eliza. The girl reached for the package he carried. "But what am I gonna tell Mama?"

"Tell your mother I'm gonna bring Jennifer back to her," whispered Kid softly. "I'm gonna bring them all back."

Eliza's chin trembled, but she nodded in agreement. The tall blonde girl turned back to the feuding threesome. Eliza clutched the package to her chest and fluttered her empty hand against her bosom. Suddenly Eliza looked like a nervous young woman alone in a big city, not the confident young woman Kid knew as his daughter.

"Wheat, I know your help will be sorely missed, but I would appreciate it if a married couple escorted me," suggested Eliza.

"Huh?"

Kid couldn't tell who sounded more puzzled, Wheat or Kyle. Martha looked relieved.

"People might get the wrong idea if I was travelling with an unmarried man," added Eliza.

The blonde lowered her gaze as if embarrassed. Kyle scratched his head.

"What kinda idea?"

Wheat rolled his eyes.

"Ain't nobody gonna get any ideas, 'specially not you," snapped the burly former outlaw. He turned to Eliza and Martha and held out his hands. "Ladies, I'd be honored to escort you both back to Thunder Ridge."

The last call for boarding sounded. Martha stepped close to her husband, linking her arm through the crook of his elbow. Eliza placed one hand on Wheat's arm. As they turned to enter the train compartment, she looked back over her shoulder with a crafty smile that reminded Kid of his partner.

"Kyle, be sure and take good care of Papa for me," called Eliza. "I'm counting on you."

Kyle's lips curled upwards and his narrow chest puffed out. The explosives expert beamed proudly. A flabbergasted Kid stared at his daughter in surprise. It wasn't until he heard Kyle's response that he thought to object.

"Yes Miss Eliza."

"I don't need..."

Train doors slammed shut. Wheels started clacking as the cars started pulling out of the station. Kid turned to his friend.

"Kyle, hurry!" Kid gestured to the passing train. "You can still jump on. Go home to Thunder Ridge!"

"I's comin' with you!"

"It will be dangerous," warned Kid. "You don't have to come with me..."

"Iffen it's safe enough for you to go, then it's safe enough for me," interrupted Kyle.

Kid swallowed, but as the last train car passed heading north, the smaller man grinned.

"It's almost like old times, right?"

"Huh?" Kid looked at his friend with a puzzled expression.

"Me and Wheat, Lobo and Preacher went to Californy once to rescue you and Heyes," reminded Kyle with a bright grin. "This time, it's jes you and me and we's gonna rescue Heyes."

"Joshua doesn't need rescuing," responded Kid, stressing his partner's alias.

The little man hastily glanced around as he realized his mistake. No one was close enough to hear. Kyle turned back to face Kid.

"Then why's we going all the way to Californy?"

Kid didn't answer. He kept telling himself that Jennifer, Joshua, Clem, and Arthur had to be fine, but hoping wasn't knowing for sure. The brave man's stomach churned with fear for his loved ones. From the other platform a boarding call sounded. There wasn't time to convince Kyle to take the next train north. Kid jammed the Homberg over his curls.

"If you're coming with me, run," ordered Kid.

"What about tickets?" called Kyle as he chased after Kid.

"We'll exchange them on the train," shouted Kid.

They reached the boarding platform as the train started pulling away. Kid gestured towards the railed platform on the last car. Kyle jumped on, followed by Kid. Breathing deep, the tall Kansan pushed open the door. Kyle stepped into the doorway and then stopped. The powder man turned and looked over his shoulder at Kid.

"You still ain't tol' me why's we going all the way to Californy."

"We're going to California to bring them all back home."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	5. Parallels

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

References to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 5: Parallels

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Hooligans!" grumbled the irascible old man. Silky leaned on his cane and shook his fist in the direction of Briggs' departure. The centenarian's voice rose with a tone of incredulity. "Scavengers looting stores and homes! And trying to rob a child? What's the world coming to?"

Heyes and Clem exchanged a glance. There really wasn't an answer to Silky's question. Arthur stood up, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Clem clambered to her feet as well. The curvaceous woman stepped towards Silky and tucked her arm into the crook of Silky's elbow.

"Silky! We were so worried about…," gushed Clem.

"What are you doing here?" interrupted Silky in an irritable tone.

The crotchety man jerked his arm free from Clem's hold and placed his arms on his hips. Silky's chin jutted out. Jennifer closed her carpet bag, grabbed Arthur's and moved to join his son. Heyes stepped closer to Silky and flashed a disarming smile.

"Can't we come check on an old friend?"

Silky's eyes narrowed. The wily conman leaned in towards Heyes with a frown. One pointed finger tapped Heyes on the chest.

"Ain't you heard there's been an earthquake?" Silky's voice rose high and shrill. "Why ain't you evacuated to Golden Gate Park or somewhere safe?"

Silky straightened up and waved his hand in the general direction of the evacuation route.

"The police told everyone to get outta here."

"When we left the Palace, police were telling everyone to get up hill, away from the fire," informed Heyes. He pushed the brim of his dusty bowler hat back. Heyes smiled again and tried for an innocent tone, knowing the proud old man wouldn't appreciate it if Heyes said he'd been worried about his old friend. "Your home is uphill."

Homes and businesses built on the unstable filled land closest to the harbor suffered the worst devastation in the early morning quake. Heyes glanced back at Taylor Street. The residents on that street had been packing, but didn't seem to be in a hurry to evacuate. The ruin of broken mansions and toppled trees on this short side street didn't seem to warrant a total evacuation.

"Why are the police sending people to the park?"

"Fire is spreading or ain't you noticed that neither?" cackled Silky.

"Then why are you still here Silky?" Clem's soft voice asked. "Shouldn't you have left too?"

"I'm waiting for Harold to come back with the car," snapped Silky.

Heyes' heart sank. Silky's driver and the Tonneau were gone. They would all be walking to the refugee center. And if their luck didn't change, they might have to walk all the way around the bay to reach Oakland by land.

"Why did Harold take your car and leave you?"

Clem stepped closer to Silky and wrapped her arm around him.

"Because I told him to," huffed Silky.

He gestured towards one of the neighboring homes. A battered headlight in the driveway was the only sign of an automobile beneath the rubble of the garage.

"The Wilkerson's have a passel of little children and Missus is in a delicate condition. They had no transportation thanks to this earthquake," continued Silky. "I told Harold to take them out of here and come back for me."

Dark brown eyes winced at the realization. Hadn't there been room for Silky to squeeze into his own car?

"Silky, the police aren't letting cars come back this direction," whispered Clem. She patted his arm and smiled in an attempt at cheerfulness. "You'll just have to walk with us."

The white haired man frowned. The aging millionaire jerked loose from Clem's hold and turned away.

"Ah go on without me." Silky waved his hand in dismissal. "Go on now. Get!"

Heyes' eyebrow went up at his old friend's tone of annoyance. Silky's shoulders slouched. The old conman trudged slowly back towards his broken mansion.

"Leave you?" protested Clem. "We will do no such thing!"

"Silky? What's wrong?" prodded Heyes.

Silky was hiding something, he was sure of it. Long legs stepped quickly forward and around his friend. Heyes stopped in front of Silky, blocking the older man's progress. Heyes' brow creased as he stared at his friend.

"Why don't you want to come with us?"

The haughty man glared at Heyes. Two strong willed men met each other's gaze. It was a full minute before Silky answered.

"The park is over five miles away. I don't have this cane just because it's fashionable," admitted Silky. "I can't walk that far."

Heyes grinned in relief.

"Is that all?"

"All?" roared Silky. "It means I'm stuck here ya ninny!"

Silky pushed past Heyes, stepping slowly towards his home.

"Do you have a wheelbarrow?" called Heyes.

Silky stopped and looked over his shoulder to stare at Heyes with an exasperated expression on his face.

"Of course I got a wheelbarrow. It's in the gardening shed!" snapped the curmudgeon. "Don't tell me you want to plant flowers now?"

"Actually, I thought we could take turns pushing you," replied Heyes with a shrug.

For a moment, Silky didn't say a word, but his eyes brightened with the realization that there he might have a chance of escape with them.

"Of course," continued Heyes in a nonchalant tone, "if you don't want to ride in a wheelbarrow, it might come in handy for carrying our luggage."

"It's a big wheelbarrow, probably hold me and a whole lot more," objected Silky in an affectionate tone. The centenarian pointed at the children's carpet bags. "Is that all you brought?"

Brown eyes met hazel. Heyes glanced from Clem to the crevasse and Taylor Street on the other side. In their hurry to get to the children, they had left their own luggage where he had dropped it during the last tremor. Bringing his eyes back to his wife, she nodded in mute agreement. There was nothing they really needed in the lost carpetbags. Heyes turned back to Silky with a broad smile.

"Where's the gardening shed?"

Silky gestured towards a small, relatively intact, outbuilding. Ten minutes later they reached the end of Pleasant Street. Heyes' shoulders already ached from the weight of the skinny little man. Silky perched atop the children's carpet bags, blankets, a large embroidered pillow and sundry supplies with an ornate vase in his hands. Clem held Arthur by one hand and Jennifer by the other. They weren't going to be separated again any time soon.

"Turn on Jones Street," ordered Silky. "Then right at Sacramento."

"I know how to get to Golden Gate Park."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Two tickets for the next train to San Francisco," requested Kid.

"Oakland is as far as we go today," responded the ticket agent. His long angular face took on a solemn expression. "There are no connections running to San Francisco…"

"Right, Oakland then," interrupted Kid. He looked over at the timetables board in frustration. They had missed the 4:10 and would now have to wait in the Denver train station for six hours. "Two tickets please."

"Next train is the 4:10," informed the clerk.

The clock behind the man pointed to four-thirty. Kid's blue eyes narrowed. Behind him Kyle looked confused. The clerk pushed up the cuffs of his white sleeved shirt and smiled.

"Didn't that already leave?"

"No, it's running late because some outlaws tried to hold up the payroll just outside of Pleasantville," answered the ticket seller. In an unctuous voice the railroad agent added, "Rest assured our trains are safe. The outlaws didn't get away with…"

Kid reached inside his suitcoat for his thick wallet. He carried enough money to pay for Eliza's tuition at the university in Laramie, but tuition hadn't been needed this morning.

"Two tickets please," repeated Kid.

The sight of greenbacks stopped the ticket agent's spiel. A flurry of motion from the man resulted in an exchange. Kid touched the brim of his hat and picked up the train tickets.

"Train is leaving on track eight in five minutes," added the clerk.

"Kyle," called Kid. "Run."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"We should probably stake out a piece of ground and set up camp," suggested Heyes as they entered Golden Gate Park.

"Camp?" Clem's voice sounded incredulous. "Here?"

Some tents already sprouted in the once empty meadow. Busy soldiers pounded stakes and hauled canvas. A quartermaster shouted directions. Hungry people lined up for hardtack, cold beans and water. At complaints about the cold food, the quartermaster growled, _"No cooking allowed, by order of the fire marshal!"_ Another tented area sheltered a field hospital. Hastily dug latrines provided some sanitary requirements. Most of the frightened refugees stayed near the army tents.

"Maybe not right here," agreed Heyes.

The meticulous planner pushed on further into the park, away from the crowd. The wheelbarrow began to stick in the soft sandy ground. Heyes stopped. A curved stand of Monterey pines separated them from the main group of refugees. In this secluded spot, the welcome aroma of a nearby eucalyptus tree scented the breeze, not the odor of a latrine or smoke. A lake glimmered with the promise of shelter if the fire made its way into the park.

"Camp? Like you and Papa used to do?" asked Jennifer.

"Sorta," nodded Heyes. "Silky may I borrow some of those blankets you insisted on bringing?"

"What fer?" demanded the white haired man.

"To stake our claim," grinned Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I's getting' tired of running for trains," complained Kyle.

"No more changing trains," assured Kid. They were lucky to make this connection in Denver. The second train they ran for rattled and clanked westbound as he made his way down the aisle. "This one goes all the way to Oakland."

"Good," huffed Kyle.

The muscular man turned sideways to allow a lady to sidle past him in the narrow corridor. The pretty woman sat down beside the window and patted the empty seat next to her in invitation. Kid smiled, but shook his head. The long legged man pressed onward to the dining car.

"We gonna sit in here?"

"There's more room. We can stretch our legs."

"And get some supper," prompted Kyle.

"You go ahead."

"But you didn't eat in Laramie!" protested Kyle.

Kid reached the nearest vacant table, pulled out a chair and sat down. The tall man leaned back in his chair, stretched his long legs out and brought one leg over, crossing his ankles. Kyle plopped into the chair beside Kid.

"Ain't you gonna eat?" prodded Kyle.

"I need to think," answered the man of action.

If there were no train connections running from Oakland to San Francisco, that meant either they needed to get an automobile, or horses and a wagon, or take that dang ferry across the bay.

"Think? What fer?" Kyle sounded puzzled.

"To make a plan."

"You've already got a plan," protested Kyle. "Go to Californy, find 'em and bring them all back home."

Kid stared at his friend. Kyle smiled, beneath the heavy glasses Kyle's guileless blue eyes conveyed total trust. Could a rescue plan really be that simple? Kid swallowed.

"Kyle, you're right," agreed Kid. He signaled for the waitress. "And it's been a long time since breakfast.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"That just about does it," grinned Heyes.

Blankets were neatly spread beneath the trees. Silky sat on his embroidered pillow in one shady corner. Arthur's Dao hung from a branch. The overturned wheelbarrow sheltered their meager supplies and weighed down another corner of the blankets. The children's carpetbags held the front corners down. Clem sat in the center of the blankets with a cutting board, a loaf of bread and left over roast chicken from Silky's kitchen. She handed Silky the first sandwich.

"Just one more thing," added Heyes.

Nimble fingers reached inside his coat. Heyes withdrew Emily Anne. Jennifer's lips curled upwards at the sight of her doll.

"Joshua," called Clem. She offered him a sandwich.

"You and the children first," smiled Heyes as he sat down on the blanket beside her.

After Heyes swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, he heard the sound of footsteps tramping over the uneven ground. The wary man turned to see a young soldier approaching. The youth looked exhausted and he carried a huge rifle.

"Mister," called the private. "I'm looking for able bodied men to fight fires. Would you be able to help?"

"You can't be taking Joshua away from his family," groused Silky. "He's needed here! With his family!"

"I wouldn't ask, but we need..."

The young man's tired voice betrayed an undertone of worry. Heyes didn't want to leave his family, but he really couldn't refuse. He knew in times like this every bit of help counted. Brushing crumbs off of his brown suit, Heyes rose to stand. Clem scrambled up beside her husband.

"It's alright Silky," soothed Heyes. "I know you'll watch over everyone."

"Where are you taking him?" Clem's anxious voice asked.

"Where ever Lieutenant Armstrong thinks he's needed," responded the young man.

The soldier glanced back over his shoulder. In the distance, Heyes could see an army transport partially loaded with troops. Other men were lined up, preparing to join the soldiers.

"I think this bunch is going to the mint," added the youth.

"I've always been real fond of the mint."

Heyes' brown eyes twinkled. He smiled at the irony of a situation that perhaps only Kid, and maybe Harry Wagoner, would fully appreciate. He slipped out of his brown suit coat and handed the garment to Clem.

"Why are you...?"

Heyes rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and smiled. The strategist didn't want to leave any details to chance. Heyes leaned in close and hugged Clem tight. Pressing his lips against the side of her face in the semblance of a kiss, he whispered.

"There is a derringer inside my coat pocket."

Clem stiffened.

"And why do I need that?" she hissed in a low tone. "Are you expecting that man to come back?"

"No, at least I hope not," Heyes didn't really think that Briggs would return, but there had been lots of wild rumors of looting and vandalism. "I don't want you and the children unprotected while I'm gone."

"Who's gonna protect you?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Where are you going Kyle?"

Kid looked away from the dark glass. The reflection in the train window had shown Kyle push his empty plate away from him. Kid's own plate was hardly touched. The little man stood up from the table, raised his arms overhead, stretched and yawned.

"Them bench seats in the passenger compartment looked like a good place to sleep," replied Kyle.

Kid nodded in agreement. Kyle tilted his head to one side and looked at Kid quizzically.

"Ain't you coming?"

A negative shake of Kid's head was followed by another yawn from Kyle.

"Well goodnight then."

Kyle turned to leave the dining car. Kid's blue eyes were level with his friend's waist. The decrepit old revolver tied down on Kyle's leg couldn't be identified. The disused weapon clearly needed cleaning.

"Kyle, when was the last time you used that revolver?"

Kyle looked back at Kid and shrugged.

"Dunno. I likes dynamite better."

Kid looked at his friend in surprise. He held his hand out expectantly.

"I'll clean your gun," offered Kid. "Let me have your pistol."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	6. Confrontations

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

References to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 6: Confrontations

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"And why did you volunteer to help save the mint?"

The army transport had dropped off several soldiers and a couple of civilians like Heyes at the government building. A map and architectural plans sprawled across the mint superintendent's desk. The busy administrator had asked the same question of each man before assigning them to a position aiding the firefighting teams led by mint employees.

"It's where the money is made," answered Heyes with a bit of a smirk.

The skinny man looked up. His eyes blinked as if he just now saw Heyes.

"What's your name?"

"Smith, Joshua Smith," Heyes smiled.

"Yes Mr. Smith, the mint is where the money is made, the lubricant that keeps the economy turning," huffed the man sounding a tad pompous. "It's an important responsibility..."

"Right," nodded Heyes. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture from a government official. "Now where did you want me to help?"

"Oh," the superintendent shook his head. He looked back at his diagrams. "The third floor needs more..."

"I thought you said the well was in the courtyard," objected Heyes. "Do you have water up on the third floor?"

"We have hydrants. Water comes from an artesian well in the courtyard," the superintendent looked up again. His lips pressed together in a mirthless smile. "We're lucky. The last of the pipes were connected two weeks ago."

"And you've got long hoses," prodded Heyes.

"Hoses and buckets, Smitty will show you where to go," assured the mint supervisor. The man chuckled as the names registered. "Smith and Smitty."

Heyes followed the sweaty, begrimed Smitty up the stairs to the third floor. Heyes looked out through the broken window across the city. He couldn't see much due to a wall of black smoke. A large wad of chaw erupted from Smitty's mouth and sailed out the window. The man looked at Heyes with a dubious eye.

"You ever manned a firehouse before?" demanded Smitty.

"Once. Thirty years ago."

"Good, you're experienced. You can be on point," grinned Smitty. "Do you have a neckerchief?"

"Huh?" Heyes shook his head. "No, not with me."

Smitty pulled a folded square of black cloth from his back pocket and handed it to Heyes. The big man gestured to a similar cloth around his neck.

"It helps to keep the smoke out of your lungs."

Smitty pulled his own neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth while Heyes knotted the black bandana loosely around his throat.

"Thanks."

Kaboom! A loud explosion shook the building. Heyes clasped both arms overhead and crouched down beside Smitty.

"What was that?"

"Blasting," answered Smitty. The man pulled a pocket watch out and smiled before tucking it back inside his vest. "Right on time. The army lieutenant said they would dynamite a few buildings to stop the fire spreading."

"And he thinks that's going to work?"

Heyes couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice. He pulled the bandana up over his lower face. Smitty handed Heyes the nozzle.

"Lieutenant says the army wants to flatten buildings for the whole street, but the city don't want to blow up so many taxpayer's homes and businesses," Smitty shrugged. He pointed at the oncoming blaze. "Keep the hose aimed at the walls."

Kaboom! Another loud explosion rattled everything and everybody. The nozzle jerked in Heyes hands as water reached the tip of the hose. The librarian widened his stance and aimed the water at down the mint's walls. Another blast sounded and a building crumbled right across the road from them.

"Too bad Kyle isn't here," muttered Heyes. "He always like a good explosion."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"How did you know the sewing machine salesman would carry machine oil?"

Kid looked up. The pieces of Kyle's disassembled revolver sprawled across the table. The waitress thumped a small can of machine oil on the table next to the tiny, two pronged crab fork he used to scrape caked on grime from the cylinders. His lips curled up in a smile. Fine machinery needed cleaning to work properly whether it was an automobile, a sewing machine or Kyle's battered revolver.

"Just a lucky guess." Kid smiled.

His big hand reached for the oil can. The meticulous shootist shook out several drops of oil onto his handkerchief. Kid picked up the barrel and started wiping the metal down.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" asked the pretty waitress. She smiled suggestively. "Anything at all?"

Kid concentrated on rubbing oil. He pretended he didn't hear the invitation in her soft voice. The woman stepped closer, leaned over the table to retrieve his empty coffee cup and the curve of her hip pressed against his arm. Kid laid the barrel of the revolver down. He picked up the six chambered cylinder and held it in the palm of his right hand directly beneath the light. With his other hand, he rubbed the cloth slowly over the rounded metal. The simple gold band on his finger glowed in the lamplight.

"Thank you Ma'am," answered Kid. He kept his gaze on the task at hand. "I reckon I've got everything I want."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"The ferry terminal didn't collapse," chuckled Heyes.

Heyes untied the bandana from his neck to reveal a full-fledged grin. The tired man ambled down the stairs of the San Francisco mint to the cracked sidewalk. Heat radiated from the rubble strewn road. Heyes stopped to wipe sweat trickling down the side of his face before tucking the bandana in a pocket. Soot stained his once white shirt. The mint door creaked open again as the superintendent stepped outside.

"Volunteers can leave now," reminded the skinny man as he passed Heyes.

"Yes sir, I'm heading to Golden Gate Park," called Heyes. "And thanks for telling me about the ferry."

The fire threatening the mint was out for now. The mint crew planned to stay overnight, working and watching in two hour shifts. The army troops had already left, following the retreating fire. The superintendent headed to the harbor, a working ferry, and Oakland, where he would find home and a functional telegraph. The man had reports to send to the Director of the Mint. Heyes watched the man disappear around the corner and then he turned his head to look towards Golden Gate Park. His grin spread across his face. He'd be walking back to the refugee center, but he didn't even mind that the army transport was gone along with the soldiers. In a couple hours, Heyes would be back with his family. But tomorrow, tomorrow he would get his family to the ferry terminal. The slim man couldn't keep a grin off his face as he headed uphill.

"Maybe I can get Silky to come back to Wyoming with us," mused Heyes.

A half a mile later Heyes heard footsteps in the deserted streets. Fire and blasting had driven most people away from this part of town. He forced himself to not look over his shoulder. At the next corner he turned at a tilted wall. A few quick steps brought him to the remnants of a doorway. Heyes ducked inside and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

"Briggs," hissed Heyes.

Heyes remembered his first meeting with the man. He'd tried to be civil back in West Bend, invited the man to talk over a drink. Good manners didn't work then and Heyes figured he might as well dispense with politeness. There wasn't a saloon here anyway. Heyes stalked out into the middle of the street.

"Are you following me?" demanded Heyes in a loud voice.

Briggs' spun around on his heels. Heyes spread his arms wide.

"Not that it's any of your business, but as you can see, I am not wearing a gun."

"Well _friend_ , it is my business," replied Briggs in an oily voice.

"You're not my _friend_."

Briggs smirked. The bully's right arm remained clasped against his chest while he pulled back the left side of his coat. The revelation of a hidden shoulder harness and revolver was hardly unexpected, but the shiny badge surprised Heyes.

"Don't tell me you're a lawman now," mocked Heyes. "What are you up to? I mean, besides trying to steal pinafores…?"

"You're hiding something in that kid's carpetbag!" interrupted Briggs. He sneered. "What are you smuggling this time? I want a cut!"

"Smuggling? This time? What are you talking about?" Heyes gaped in surprise. "I'm not a smuggler!"

"I know you and your partner waited for a delivery in West Bend."

Brown eyes narrowed as Heyes listened to the man rant about Seth's revelations. The calculating mind began to wonder. How long had a wounded Briggs stayed in West Bend after Heyes and his partner left town? How much snooping into their lives had the man done?

"I traced the two of you to San Francisco…"

Briggs circled step by step around the street as he talked, gesturing with his left hand to punctuate his boastful words. Heyes kept pace, matching the bully's steps in a macabre dance until he found himself facing the street he had just left.

"…it wasn't hard to find out that you'd gone to the auction house. What did you sell?"

"We weren't smuggling anything," protested Heyes. "We were hired to deliver a package…"

Briggs barked a short, sharp laugh.

"I don't believe you," a chill smile spread across Briggs' face. "But if you could do me a little favor…"

Briggs raised his left hand and pressed his thumb and forefinger together as he said the word little. The bully used that same eerily polite tone of quiet menace that he'd used when he asked Kid to do a little jig. Heyes stomach tightened.

"I might be willing to forget about your smuggling," concluded Briggs.

"What kind of favor?"

"Tell me, where is that partner of yours?"

Heyes sucked in a deep breath. Alarm bells clamored in his mind. He remembered that last day in West Bend. _Briggs bleeding, clutching his right arm above the elbow. Kid ordered someone to go find a doctor and then confronted Reverend Spencer. Heyes had told his partner that he was scared of Briggs, but truthfully Heyes was more afraid of what was happening to Kid. It hadn't been that long after Danny. Kid stalked off back to the hotel to wait for the stage. Heyes followed. "Don't you want something to eat?" Kid's shocked look. His own sense of giddy relief at Kid's answer. "Joshua, shooting a man spoils the appetite."_

"Is that what this is about?" Heyes' voice hissed in a low, dangerous tone. He pointed to Briggs' arm. "Thaddeus shot you and now you want revenge?"

Briggs smiled, that patronizing smile that he'd used so often in West Bend. He rolled his right shoulder. The motion shifted his upper arm slightly, and Briggs' forearm lowered slowly. Briggs flexed the fingers of his right hand as if admiring them.

"Revenge?"

Briggs chuckled. The man flexed his fingers again.

"Your partner's bullet didn't do me any favors," admitted the broad shouldered man. "But that quack in West Bend didn't line up the bone straight. Had to stop in Tucson and get the arm reset, it never did heal right."

"You shoulda stayed in West Bend, stayed in bed and rested…"

"A gunman without the use of his shooting arm?" interrupted Briggs. He shook his head. "No. I couldn't stay in West Bend."

Briggs reached for his pistol. Heyes found himself staring at one of the newer model Colts, slim gray polished metal, the grip so small it disappeared in Briggs' grasp. Heyes raised his hands higher on either side.

"I'm unarmed."

An audible click sounded as Briggs pulled back the spur hammer with his thumb.

"Now _friend_ why don't you tell me where I can find Thaddeus Jones." Briggs lips widened in a fake smile. "Then you can tell me all about your little smuggling operation."

Heyes seethed, but didn't answer. His mind raced. He wasn't about to send this crazed man after Kid.

"Should I count to three?"

"You're too late Briggs."

"What do you mean?"

"A measles epidemic took Thaddeus, years ago," lied Heyes.

"Measles? Ha! You're gonna have to do better than that Smith," retorted Briggs. "Measles is a kid's disease."

"Measles is a disease for anyone that hasn't had it before," corrected Heyes. "And complications…"

Heyes let his voice trail off. He shuddered to think of the close call. Last August, measles paid an unwelcome visit to Thunder Ridge. The isolated town hadn't had an outbreak of anything worse than chicken pox in ten years. Nearly everyone in town and the surrounding homesteads came down ill. Fever, rash, muscle aches, and in Kid's case, coughing. Tender care saw Kid safely through the illness, but Heyes wasn't going to tell Briggs.

"My partner developed pneumonia."

Briggs sneered and started to say something, but he was interrupted by a shout.

"What's goin' on!" bellowed a loud voice. "Sun is setting! In case you didn't hear, there's a curfew tonight!"

Briggs' face blanched. Heyes glanced over his shoulder to see a big, barrel chested man in uniform standing at the far end of the street. The police officer's clothes were streaked with dirt and ash. The big man started towards them, a Billy stick in his hand and his service revolver holstered. Footsteps sounded. Heyes turned back around to see Briggs holster his pistol as he backed up. The bully reached the corner. Why would a policeman run at the approach of another officer?

"We're not done yet Smith," warned Briggs. "I'll find you again, and we can finish this conversation."

Briggs raced off in the direction of the mint. Heyes glanced over his shoulder at the approaching policeman. Running was probably a good idea. A few quick steps and he was at the corner. Briggs' retreating figure reached another intersection and turned left.

"You're not coming anywhere near my family Briggs," hissed Heyes before he took off in the opposite direction.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You still cleaning my pistol?"

Kid looked up at Kyle's plaintive voice. His friend braced himself against the door and yawned as the train car rattled around a curve. Cleaning a revolver usually brought a peaceful calm to Kid's mind, but not this time. Reading the Wyoming Tribune he'd picked up earlier in the day soothed his worry somewhat. It helped knowing the Palace survived the initial quake, but that didn't tell him where Jennifer, Arthur, Clem and Heyes were now. Hopefully they went to Silky's home. The mansion should be safe. Kid's wife hadn't wanted Jennifer to go off to San Francisco. He'd convinced Matt that the trip would be the experience of a lifetime for their young daughter. Kid didn't regret that decision, but an earthquake wasn't an experience anybody wanted.

"Done cleaning," answered Kid.

Kid laid down the polishing cloth. He hefted Kyle's old revolver for a moment before spinning the gun with a flourish. Kid slid the newly cleaned gun back in the holster without putting any bullets in the empty cylinder. Kyle whistled.

"Hoo wee! It ain't never been that shiny."

"Thought you were gonna sleep?" Kid's eyebrow arched up as he rose from the seat. He handed Kyle his gun belt.

"Can't," grumbled the dynamite specialist. "Strange folks a snoring, a baby crying and..."

Kid had faith in Heyes. He knew his partner would do everything possible to keep them all safe and get them out of the danger area. That was the only thought that allowed him to even think of sleep. That, and knowing he needed to be ready for whatever tomorrow might bring.

"Why don't we try the freight compartment?" suggested Kid. "It's usually quieter there."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Let me take that shirt, I'll hang it from the tree to dry."

Heyes dripped from his attempt at washing up at the pond. He handed Clem his dress shirt, at least his Henley looked clean. He sniffed. The stale odor of sweat and smoke still lingered and his once brown pants looked more black than brown now.

"Here Pa," Arthur thrust a ham and cheese sandwich towards him.

"Have you already eaten supper?"

"Everybody has eaten except you," answered Clem.

"There are canned peaches for dessert," smiled Jennifer.

Heyes looked at the child. His eyes narrowed. Jennifer was now dressed in the pale blue shirtwaist and brown riding pants from her carpet bag, her blonde curls pulled back in a tight braid.

"What happened to your dress?"

"Hmmph! Pants are more practical," sniffed Clem. She turned away from the tree closest to the clearing. His dress shirt dripped from a branch. "If I had some pants with me, I'd have changed too."

Clem gestured towards the pile of blankets beside the wheelbarrow.

"You children get ready for bed now," directed Clem "Be sure and bundle up. I don't want either one of you catching cold."

Arthur handed Jennifer a blue blanket and grabbed the red blanket for himself. The children moved into the curved center of the sheltering trees, leaving Heyes and Clem staring at each other. Clem stepped closer to Heyes, her hazel eyes wide. She sniffed.

"You smell."

"I know," Heyes flashed a smile and tried to make light of it. "We left the soap at the Palace."

"We heard explosions." Clem was in his arms, her body shuddered. "You could have been… could have been…"

Heyes tried to comfort his wife, but a sandwich in one hand made it hard to hold her like he wanted.

"Ma, are you alright?"

Clem's body stiffened. She straightened up with her back to the children and looked at Heyes, her hazel eyes glistened.

"I'm fine, go to sleep Arthur," admonished Clem in her most practical, don't give me any nonsense whatsoever, voice.

Heyes looked over her shoulder at Arthur and Jennifer. Two pairs of wide eyes stared at him, three pairs if you counted the doll sitting between the children.

"We're just talking, making plans," Heyes added. "Now get some sleep."

His tired body swayed involuntarily and his knees buckled. Heyes clutched at Clem for balance.

"Joshua," Clem steadied him. "You need to sit down."

When she was sure he wouldn't fall, she picked up Silky's abandoned pillow and placed it on the overturned wheelbarrow. Heyes sat and finally took a bite of his sandwich.

"Where's Silky?"

"He went with Mr. Wilkerson to go find out where Harold and the Tonneau are." At Heyes blank look, Clem explained further. "The car was commandeered as an ambulance. That's why the Wilkerson's are here."

Heyes glanced to the right. Their secluded camp area had gotten rather crowded while Heyes was at the mint. A family with at least ten children seemed settled for the night on the other side of the pines. Heyes took another bite of his sandwich.

"It looks like the worst of the fires are out."

Heyes wriggled and stretched, rolling his back. Clem handed him one of the children's souvenir tin cups filled with water. He gulped it down and handed the empty cup back to her. She stacked it on top of the other cup on top of Silky's vase. He arched an eyebrow up. Clem answered his unspoken question.

"We needed something to put water in."

"What did Silky say about that?"

"He hasn't seen it yet," replied Clem. The slim woman tilted her head and looked at him. "A woman at the water line said trains are running from Third and Townsend."

"The ferry terminal wasn't destroyed either."

Heyes met his wife's gaze. If the fire hadn't driven them away from the lower streets, they and the children might have already been out of San Francisco. But what would have happened to Silky? Heyes didn't like the idea of leaving the centenarian on his own in a disaster area.

"Do you think we can get Silky to come back to Thunder Ridge for a visit?"

Clem's soft words voiced his concern.

"Tomorrow morning, we will all go to either the ferry terminal or the Southern Pacific Station."

The children were asleep before Heyes finished the last bite of his peaches. Clem came up behind him and began to rub his aching shoulder muscles. Heyes leaned back into her touch with a contented sigh.

"What is it you aren't telling me?"

"Huh?" Heyes shook his head. "I told you about the fire, blasting downtown…"

"What else?" insisted Clem.

Heyes' lips curled up in a little smile. Kid always said Clem was like Heyes, but Heyes thought Clem was more like Kid. Stubborn, brave, and she could always tell when he was hiding something.

"I ran into Briggs again."

Heyes heard Clem's sharp intake of breath. She shivered and dropped her hands from his shoulders. Heyes shifted around to face her.

"That awful man," whispered Clem.

"Yeah," agreed Heyes with a sigh. "Briggs is the kind of fella that will pull a gun on you when your back is turned."

"What did he want?"

"Money and revenge," shrugged Heyes. He blinked his tired eyes and leaned his head upon her chest. "Or maybe it's revenge first, then money."

"What?"

"Briggs thinks we're smuggling something hidden in Jennifer's bag, he wants a cut," Heyes explained. "And the revenge… well, Thaddeus did shoot him."

Clem gasped. Funny, or not funny really, thought Heyes. In all the banks and trains they robbed, Curry and Heyes and the Devil's Hole Gang never shot anyone. But trying for amnesty was the one thing more dangerous than being an outlaw. It wasn't until they tried to go straight that either one of them actually shot someone.

"Now you two…"

Heyes and Clem jumped at the sound of Silky's voice. Their old friend entered the camp with a grin on his face.

"Keep your hands to yourselves," admonished Silky with twinkle in his eye. "Children might be watching."

In the next camp, someone stumbled and knocked something over. The cascading crash of one thing into another started a dog howling. And in the distance a wailing siren sounded, loud and shrill. Clem and Heyes exchanged a horrified glance.

"Another siren?"

Clem pulled away from Heyes' grasp and walked to the edge of the clearing. Heyes looked out across the night sky. The smoke filled air blocked the view of any stars, but now a new red glow appeared in the direction of Silky's Nob Hill home, downtown and the ferry terminal. More fire alarms clanged throughout the city.

"But the fires were out…" Heyes voice trailed off.

He stood up and strode over to stand by his wife. Clem leaned back against the warmth of his body, Heyes wrapped his arms around her waist. Silky shuffled forward to join them.

"A spark, leaking gas, someone trying to cook supper, anything could have started it back up again," whispered Clem.

"Or arson."

"Huh?" Heyes turned to look at Silky in surprise. "Why? Why would anyone do such a thing?"

"Most folks have insurance against fire damage," frowned Silky. "I don't know anyone with insurance that pays for earthquake damage."

Silky's lips crinkled in a frown. He pointed to a bright flaming spot on the glowing cityscape.

"My home used to be right about there."

The centenarian turned away with a sniff. Heyes swallowed. He hugged Clem tight against his body as they watched the soaring flames spread.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I don't remember this town being so big," complained Kyle. "Or so crowded."

Kid stepped off the train. Oakland had changed. It was just over twenty-four hours since the earthquake. Frightened, disheveled people crowded the streets. A shattered brick wall left a building open to the elements. A rope cordoned off the shaky structure. A man with a clipboard stood beneath a banner. The red fabric declaring _Building Trades Council_ hung from an open warehouse door. In the entry way a long table was set up, piled with plates of biscuits and cups of coffee. A line of people streamed up from the waterfront. Some headed for biscuits, others headed for churches offering refuge. Some folks looked like they were camped on the sidewalk. Could Heyes, Clem, Arthur and Jennifer be in this vast multitude? How could you find anyone in this chaos?

"I wanna talk to that fella," declared Kid.

Kid settled the Homburg on his curls at a rakish angle and started across the street. Kyle hurried after, clutching at Kid's back in an effort to keep up. Three different women handed Kid and Kyle biscuits before they got past the bread line.

"Mister," called Kid.

The frazzled man looked up from his papers.

"May I help you?"

"I sure hope so," Kid responded. "I'm looking for family. They were in San Francisco when the quake hit. They mighta come here on the ferry boat. Do you have any lists of who's here?"

At the gray haired man's blank look, Kid continued.

"My partner is about my height, slim build, brown hair, his wife is tiny," Kid held his hand up in front of his chest to indicate height. "Their son is twelve, and my little Jennifer..."

Kid gulped. He lowered his hand a few inches. The man sighed and shook his head.

"Son, we've had more than a dozen ferries filled with people come over since the quake and expect even more today. We're not organized enough to have a list of names yet." He looked around the crowded square and pointed up hill, moving his hand as he spoke. "Folks are staying at churches, First Methodist, First Baptist, the Unitarians, and if they're injured we send them to the hospital..."

"Hospital."

Kid's worried whisper stopped the man's spiel. A look of compassion flitted across his face.

"Depending upon where your family was, they might not have come here at all," added the man. "You ought to go down to the docks and talk to Spence. He's been meeting the boats and giving folks directions. He never forgets a face. If you can show him a picture he might be able to help."

Kid tipped his hat and muttered words of thanks. The tall man backed away from the warehouse door followed by Kyle. They reached the street.

"Do you have a picture to show this fella Spence?" asked Kyle.

"Not with me."

Weaving through the throng of people, he and Kyle made their way towards the harbor. Dazed refugees filled the streets, heading away from the water. Oakland residents stood at every corner. Helpful people gave directions and aide to passersby. At each corner, Kid asked for Spence. The answer was the same, _"By the pier."_ It wasn't until they neared the pier that the answer changed.

"See the fella in the black jacket," pointed a woman.

Kid and Kyle approached. The man faced the harbor. A newly arrived ferry lowered a gangplank, people swarmed for the ramp.

"Spence," called Kid.

The man turned around and smiled in recognition. Kid grinned back. There were a few more creases in the kind face and the once dark curls were nearly all white, but at least Kid wouldn't need a photograph.

"Thaddeus," greeted Reverend Spencer. "I haven't seen you since that stage coach ride, what was it twenty... twenty-three years ago?"

"At least that long," answered Kid.

"You haven't changed a bit," added the clergyman. "What brings you here?"

"The earthquake. I'm looking for my partner..."

"Joshua?"

"Yes," nodded Kid. "He's travelling with his wife, their son, and my daughter Jennifer. The fella at the _Building Trades Council_ said you met each boat and would know if..."

Reverend Spencer's eyes blinked at the words wife, son, daughter. But when Kid's question became apparent, he started shaking his head.

"I've been here all night, saw every person that came up this pier," interrupted Reverend Spencer. "I know I haven't seen Joshua. What does your daughter look like?"

Kid raised his hand and started to describe Jennifer, but Kyle spoke up, sounding like a proud uncle.

"She's a purty little thing," Kyle beamed. The dynamite expert stuck his thumb out towards Kid. "Miss Jennifer looks just like him, curly blonde hair and the bluest eyes. Only shorter."

"She's only eleven," added Kid.

"I haven't seen them."

Kid swallowed. He looked at the distraught people coming up the gangplank. Across the water, smoke thicker than fog, shrouded the city of San Francisco. Kid wasn't going to waste time looking around Oakland. He knew in his gut that his partner, Clem, Arthur and his little girl were still in the burning city.

"Kyle, let's go," Kid pointed at the boat. "We've got to get on that ferry."

Reverend Spencer wished them Godspeed as the oncoming crowd reached them. The new arrivals parted to let Kid and Kyle through. It wasn't until they actually reached the boat that anyone tried to stop them.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Kid stared past the stocky man. He raised a hand and pointed at the smoking city.

"There."

"We're evacuating people from San Francisco," objected the frazzled ferry boat operator. "Only rescue personnel are being allowed over!"

Kyle peered around Kid's shoulder at the man.

"We's here to rescue folks."

The big boatman leaned back, crossed his arms over his wide chest and laughed at Kyle.

"And what do you think you're gonna do?"

"You need explosives experts, right?"

Something in Kid's cold quiet voice silenced the man for a moment.

"You?" blustered the man.

"No, but my partner and I own a mine in Wyoming," answered Kid. Most of what he said was true. Kid smiled and gestured to the bespectacled little man beside him. "Kyle here is our dynamite specialist."

The big man snapped his square jaw shut. He looked over his shoulder at the smoking city and turned back to face Kid and Kyle.

"We need good dynamiters," admitted the boatman. He eyed Kyle dubiously. "Have you ever laid charges to level a building?"

"Buildings, bridges, and…" began Kyle.

"Kyle's the best," interrupted Kid.

The ferry boat operator narrowed his eyes and stared at Kyle. Kid could almost see the man thinking.

"You can come." The man thumped his finger on Kyle's chest, then turning to Kid he started to thump Kid, but something in Kid's eyes made him hold back He wound up turning his hand nervously back towards himself. "You stay."

"I ain't gonna go if he don't go," protested Kyle in an affronted tone.

"Why?" sneered the man. "Too dangerous for you now?"

"Someone's gotta tell me what to blow up," retorted Kyle.

"We have people to tell you…"

Kyle's jaw dropped open. The shocked expression on his face stopped the boatman.

"I ain't gonna just let anybody tell me to light a fuse," huffed Kyle. "They's only two folks that can tell me to blow things up."

Kid pressed his lips together in a hard smile. With one finger he tilted the Homberg back. His determined blue eyes reflected the gray smoking city.

"And I'm one of them."

"But I said you can't..."

Kid raised his hand and jabbed his finger in the air over the man's shoulder, pointing towards San Francisco.

"I'm going over there. And you ain't gonna stop me."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	7. Bullets and Blasting

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

References to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 7: Bullets and Blasting

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I don't want you to go."

In the early morning light, volunteers lined up on the far side of the clearing. The army transport was filling fast. Silky frowned and looked away. Heyes stepped closer to Clem. With one gentle finger he tilted her trembling chin upwards.

"I'll be back soon," promised Heyes. "It's just manning a hose, I won't be near the demolition."

Clem wiped a strand of hair back from her pale face. Even though she wore his brown suit coat over her travelling dress, she shivered in the damp air. The children, slept on oblivious. She took his hand in hers and pressed a hard metal object against his hand. Heyes looked down to see the derringer.

"You should take this, in case that man…"

"No," Heyes grinned in an attempt at levity. "I've got the army to protect me."

He closed her fingers over the palm pistol.

"Keep it," urged Heyes. "I hope you don't need it, but I'd rather you had it."

Heyes turned to head towards the transport. He looked back over his shoulder. Her lips curled up in a shaky smile. Kissing her fingertips, she blew a kiss to him.

"Try to keep Arthur and Jennifer out of trouble while I'm gone."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Wouldja lookey there!"

Kid raised his head up from the view of the roiling blue and green water at Kyle's exclamation. Firefighting boats lined the edge of the harbor, spraying huge plumes of bay water on the nearest buildings.

"They've been doing that since yesterday morning," sighed a skinny man on the other side of Kyle. "Put one fire out and another starts."

Kid eyed the man in the natty business suit with curiosity. Kid and the skinny man were the only two men on the ferry dressed in suits. Kyle wore a pale shirt, vest and kept tugging his heavy gun belt up. The only other people with holstered guns were the four police officers. Thinking of his own difficulty getting on board the ferry, Kid wondered. What kind of rescue work was done wearing a suit?

"Why are you going over to the city?" prodded Kid. "Are you a fireman, policeman, or a dynamite specialist?"

The man hooked his thumbs in the lapels of his suitcoat and beamed with pride.

"I'm the superintendent of the San Francisco Mint," preened the skinny man. "Although I guess after yesterday's work I could also be considered a fireman. What do you two do?"

"Looking for…," began Kid.

"Dynamite," Kyle's eyes gleamed. "I gets to blow things up."

Kyle's answer wiped the smug expression from the superintendent's face.

"What happened at the mint?" Kid tried to distract the man from Kyle.

"It was wonderful! Our staff stayed through the worst of the fires and demolition," recounted the skinny man.

"You already started blowing things up?"

Kid glared at Kyle. The determined Kansan pressed his way forward to stand between Kyle and the superintendent.

"We had support from the army and civilian volunteers too," added the skinny man. "Everybody pitched in to save the mint. The mint is vital to the economy."

"Saving the mint is important," agreed Kid. "After all, it's where the money is made."

Kid pressed his lips together in a wry smile thinking what Heyes would say when he told his partner about meeting the federal man. He almost missed the superintendent's next words.

"That's the exact same thing that fella Joshua said. I wish all the volunteers cared about the mint as much as he did," grinned the skinny man. With a chuckle at his own wit, he added, "I put him to work up on the third floor with Smitty. Smith and Smitty..."

Kid's hand shot out. His fingers tightened aroud the superintendent's upper arm.

"Did you say that fella Joshua's last name was Smith?"

"Yes, Joshua Smith," the superintendent sniffed and looked pointedly at his arm. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm looking for my partner, Joshua Smith," Kid could hardly breathe. "This fella Joshua, what did he look like?"

The federal man tried to pry Kid's hand from his bicep. Kid gave an apologetic smile and released his grip.

"About your height," huffed the man. The fastidious superintendent smoothed his crinkled sleeve. "Slim build, brown hair starting to go gray around the temples…"

Kid swallowed. This was the first real lead he had on his partner, but where were Jennifer, Arthur and Clem?

"Did he have a tiny woman and two children with him?"

The superintendent stopped pressing the fabric and eyed Kid with a disparaging look.

"An army transport brought men to help fight fire," the superintendent stated in a scornful tone. "There were no women and children on the vehicle."

"Is Joshua Smith still at the Mint?"

Kid hoped his voice didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

"Of course not, I sent the volunteers h- home," the superintendent's voice stumbled on the word home. He corrected himself. "I mean I released them last night. For security purposes, I only kept the mint employees for the night shift."

The ferry horn blasted, announcing their arrival. Dockworkers shouted for ropes as the boat shuddered to a stop against the pier. The superintendent started to move to the exit. Kid stepped in front of him.

"Did this fella Smith say where he was going?"

"Do you really think this fella is your partner?" countered the superintendent.

Kid didn't answer. And maybe the desperation he was feeling showed. The superintendent's officious air thawed.

"It might not be him. There are lots of folks named Smith in the world, including my very own employee," continued the superintendent. "Smitty is a nickname for Smith."

"I gotta start looking somewhere," replied Kid. "Did this Joshua Smith fella say where he was going?"

"He mighta said something about going to Golden Gate Park," answered the superintendent. "But I really don't remember."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You'll be handed a broom and a knapsack when we stop," shouted the corporal.

Heyes pulled the black neckerchief from his pocket and tied it loosely around his throat as the army transport slowed. His brown eyes widened to see the mansion he, Clem and the children had stopped in front of yesterday. All that remained of the once imposing building was smoldering wood and rubble. It looked like the roof had collapsed on the structure. The broken head of a stone lion peered up with one eye from the edge of the street.

"A broom?" Heyes' voice rose along with others. Protests sounded. "How are we supposed to fight fire with a broom?"

"Where's the fire wagons? The hoses?"

The corporal raised his hands in a call for quiet.

"Fellas, there ain't no water in the hydrants in this part of town," explained the beleaguered soldier. "The fire wagons are where they can do the most good."

"We can't put out a fire with a broom!" voices objected. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Hold the line as long as we can," encouraged the corporal. "When we can't, you'll hear me order _Fall Back._ Then we back up to the next street and make a new line."

"That's a plan?"

"It's the only plan we got."

Heyes was the only one to ask the next hard question.

"How long does that go on?"

"Until we meet the dynamiters."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"How we gonna get around that?" Kyle's plaintive voice sounded. "Didn't you say Golden Gate Park was on the other side?"

Kid looked up the steep hill. Remnants of buildings smoldered, and in spots fire blazed out of control. According to the mint superintendent, a man could walk along the harbor edge and then make his way into town. Kid wished he'd asked the superintendent how he managed, but the skinny man had wriggled his way through the line of people exiting the ferry boat and disappeared from sight. They reached the gangplank. The ferry boat operator waited there with a self-satisfied grin on his face. An army corporal stood beside him.

"These two fellas came to help," smirked the boatman. "They're dynamiters."

"Kyle's the dynamite expert," corrected Kid. "I'm Thaddeus Jones…"

"Sure glad you fellas came to San Francisco," responded the soldier. "We need all the help we can get."

The thickset man looked at the corporal in surprise, obviously having expected a different greeting. A pudgy finger pointed at Kid.

"This fella ain't no dynamite expert," spluttered the boatman. "You ain't gonna let him…"

Kid glared. The annoying man's voice trailed off, but the corporal gazed at Kid quizzically.

"What do you do?"

"I'm usually in charge of security."

"That's wonderful!" beamed the corporal. "We need someone to secure the perimeter before the blasting starts."

"You gonna be able to get us up there?" Kid pointed to the fiery hills. The corporal nodded. "Past the fire?"

"Past it?" the corporal sounded surprised. "Sure, but not until we're done blasting. Why?"

"I've got family up there," replied Kid. He turned back to gaze at the cityscape. "Somewhere."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Thanks," gasped Heyes.

Heyes accepted the water canteen from the young soldier. The soot begrimed librarian pulled down the black bandana covering his mouth. Throughout the long day, the private kept going up and down the line of volunteer firefighters, providing food and water.

"Where are we?"

Heyes lifted the canteen to his parched mouth. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. The firefighters had zigzagged back and forth battling the raging flames. Heyes had lost track of how many times they had gone a block forward, and then been chased back by the fire.

"Polk Street," answered the youth. He pointed. "Colonel says everyone needs to get back past Gough Street."

"Three blocks? We're losing more streets?"

"The colonel said the dynamiters have all their charges in place," explained the young man. "He's gonna order everything between here and Van Ness Avenue to be blown up."

Heyes held the canteen out, knowing the young soldier need to move on to the next fireman. A sharp crack sounded. Water dribbled out on the dry, ash covered street. Heyes stared at the hole in the canteen.

"Someone's shooting at us!"

"Time to get outta here!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"When am I gonna get to blow the dynamite?"

Kyle slid the last charge into place along the cellar beam. Kid raked a sooty hand through his dirty curls, wondering again where he had lost his Homberg. His gray pinstriped suit was so covered with ash now that it appeared entirely gray, he couldn't see the stripes at all.

"Soon Kyle, I'll tell you when," soothed Kid. "Are all the charges in place?"

"The whole block is done," nodded Kyle. Deep creases marked his ashy face as Kyle grinned in delight. "This will be the biggest blast yet."

Kyle and other explosive specialists had demolished buildings throughout the long day, but the fire had merely danced around the smaller firebreaks. Now, Colonel Morris had ordered several consecutive blocks along Van Ness Avenue to be leveled.

"Let's get outta here."

Kid reached the top of the cellar stairs and stepped out into the waning light. The clouds in the west were lit with an eerie orange glow that wasn't fire. Kid hadn't seen the sun all day because of the smoke in the air, but he could tell it was getting late. The two tired men trudged toward a brick wall at the corner. On the other side, all the wires that Kyle had run from bundles of dynamite in different cellars tied into one big detonator. Kyle knelt down and started twisting the last set of wires into place. Kid's sharp ears heard something that sounded like a gunshot.

"What's that?"

Kid peered over the edge of the brick wall at the intersection. Further up the cross street a soot covered group of men raced towards Van Ness. They were moving so fast that Kid only caught a glimpse of them as they ran through the intersection. The men were nearly indistinguishable. One man carried a broom, another clutched a burlap sack, while the last man had a black neckerchief around his throat. A second shot kicked up dust mere inches from the feet of the last runner.

"No one is supposed to be on this street," protested Kid. "Who's shooting?"

The sinewy man strode out from behind the blasting shelter to the edge of the intersection. In the distance, a broad shouldered man crouched behind an abandoned dresser on the sidewalk. The shooter rested a rifle barrel across the top. Kid could tell it was a fancy gun, equipped with a thick round telescopic barrel usually only seen on army rifles. The gunman took aim at the firemen once more.

"Kyle!"

The gunman jerked his head up at the sound of Kid's shout. Kid was glad to distract the shooter from the firemen, but he had no desire to be the next target.

"Kyle, hurry up!" called Kid. "I need that pistol of yours!"

At this distance Kid wasn't sure if he could shoot the gun from the man's hands, but he was going to try. The gunman now looked in his direction.

"What fer?" called Kyle.

The rifle barrel swiveled to point at Kid. The fast draw moved from side to side as the gunman took aim. Kyle poked his head up and looked over the brick barrier at Kid. The little man frowned.

"You needs to get back here! You're too close."

Kid stopped moving as he turned to stare at his friend in shock.

"Did you press the plunger already?"

"Yeah." Kyle beckoned. "Come on!"

A shot furrowed the road near Kid's feet. It wouldn't take long for the shooter to get the range figured out. Kid started running.

"You were supposed to wait for my signal!"

"You done called me!"

Kaboom!

The blast knocked Kid off his feet. He rolled across the pavement, curling up into a fetal position with his arms wrapped around his head. He stopped with a thud against the brick wall. Dust and debris filled the air. A mound of rubble, once homes, blocked the other side of the road separating them from the shooter. The sounds of other blasts echoed, as one by one the other blocks were demolished. Kid sat up slowly. He ran a hand over his jaw, wiggling it back and forth. It still worked. He grinned to see Kyle's head peer around the corner of the brick wall.

"Is you alright?"

"Yeah, you?"

Kyle nodded and crawled out to sit with Kid in front of the brick wall. Kid leaned back with a sigh and rested his pounding head against the bricks.

"We were supposed to be the last group to light the fuse," reminded Kid.

"I just done what you tol' me," insisted Kyle.

Kid grinned. He couldn't be mad at his friend. Kyle had probably saved his life.

"What did you want my pistol fer anyways?"

"To shoot it," answered Kid.

"Well you can't, I ain't got no bullets."

"No bullets?" Kid stared at Kyle. "What about those cartridges in your gun belt?"

"They's empty," grinned Kyle. "I used the all the gunpowder for fireworks last Fourth of July."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"The shot sounded and all of us just ran, then the explosions," Heyes shook his head. "When we got to Gough Street, the soldiers put us on the transport and brought us all back here."

Except for their whispers, Golden Gate Park was quiet in the dark night. Clem dipped the torn piece of his dress shirt back into the pond. Her fingers twisted around the cloth tightly as she wrung out the excess water. Heyes hissed as Clem pressed the cool damp cloth against his forehead. She wiped the cloth down again, removing another layer of soot, ash and dirt.

"I didn't see anything but the man in front of me," continued Heyes. "No one knows who did the shooting. It could have just been some nut."

"You know it was that awful man," insisted Clem. "How many people in San Francisco want to shoot you?"

Heyes was very tempted to answer that it depended upon who was in San Francisco at the moment, but he didn't think his wife would appreciate that jest. The tired man frowned, thinking. Briggs had pulled a gun yesterday, trying to intimidate him like he had in West Bend. The bully wanted in on a non-existent smuggling operation and revenge on Kid. Heyes had made it clear that neither was possible. Would Briggs try to shoot him out of frustration? In place of Kid?

"How would Briggs know where I was?" countered Heyes.

Clem bent over and dipped the makeshift washcloth back in the pond and swished it to remove the grime. She repeated the process to wring out the cloth and began wiping Heyes' face again scrubbing the stubble on his jawline thoroughly to remove the caked on soot.

"For all you know he could have doubled back yesterday and followed you here last night."

"Then wouldn't he have tried something this morning?" Heyes frowned. "And when I saw Briggs he didn't have a rifle."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't have one," argued Clem. "For all we know he's got a Gatling gun too."

"I doubt it," grinned Heyes. "I hear they're hard to come by."

Clem sniffed. Water trickled down the back of Heyes' neck, running between his shoulder blades as Clem moved the cloth lower.

"Okay," conceded Heyes raising his hands. "Maybe you're right, maybe it was Briggs. But how did he know which fireman to try and shoot? You said yourself you couldn't recognize me when you first saw me this evening."

"He could have followed you from here this morning," retorted Clem. "Or maybe he just lucked out and saw you before you got so dirty."

Clem stroked the cloth across the dirty triangle on his bare chest where the top of his shirt had been unbuttoned. Heyes looked at his Henley soaking in the pond. The soot and grime hadn't really started sticking until the sweaty late afternoon. The tiny woman looked back up the slope to their camp. Silky sat upon the wheelbarrow, vigilant, watching over the sleeping children. Heyes swallowed. Clem's unspoken worry was readily apparent. If someone was taking potshots at him, a canteen might not be the only casualty.

"Tomorrow morning, we go to the ferry if we can get there," determined Heyes. "Otherwise we start walking towards the Daly ranch."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"My men found this."

The corporal leaned a dusty rifle with a scope against the central tent post. Kid lifted his face from the field sink, a rickety table with a metal washbasin actually. Most of the dirt was gone, at least now Kid could recognize his own reflection in the tinny mirror. He set the razor down. Kid reached for a towel and started wiping the traces of shaving cream from his face.

"The gun was half buried by debris, but there wasn't a body," continued the corporal. "Whoever was shooting at you got away."

"Can't be too many folks have access to a rifle like that," Kid replied pointedly.

The corporal sighed and sat down in the camp chair facing Kid. The spacious tent at the Presidio was meant to be officer's quarters when in the field, but the corporal had wrangled special privileges for his dynamite crew including water for shaving and a change of clothes. Kyle had the next tent over.

"We're pretty sure the rifle was stolen," confided the young soldier. "A unit moving prisoners from the city prison to Alcatraz was stopped by a policeman, only it wasn't really a policeman."

"And one of your soldiers just gave this fella a gun?"

Kid couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice.

"No, our job is to help the police to keep order," answered the corporal. "The fake policeman asked for assistance, the OIC detached a private to go with him."

"Your folks gave this fella _a soldier and a gun_?"

"Yeah."

The corporal rubbed a hand across his face. Dark circles under the young man's even darker eyes gave mute evidence of the man's exhaustion.

"What happened to the private?"

"He was lucky. Another one of our units found him unconscious during a sweep to make sure all civilian personnel were evacuated from the fire zone," answered the corporal. The young man's lips pressed down in a tight frown. "He's in the hospital now, ten stitches across the back of his head, but he'll be alright."

"So you're saying, whoever this gunman is, he's got a fake badge and a genuine army uniform now," prodded Kid. "In a town that's got martial law."

"Martial law hasn't been declared," the soldier was quick to correct. "The army is just helping out the government."

"A uniform, or a badge, means something," reminded Kid.

"Yeah," agreed the corporal. "And in the wrong hands..."

The man's voice trailed off. Kid reached for a clean light blue shirt hanging from a peg, slid it over his torso and began buttoning it up over the dark wool army pants he now wore. The shirt was a little snug, but his own clothing wouldn't be dry until morning. Kid shook his head. He couldn't help the soldier, he had no idea who the shooter was or how to find him. Kid decided to change the subject.

"When do we go to Golden Gate Park?"

"I know I promised you I'd get you there tonight, but the blasting took longer than we thought it would," reminded the corporal.

"San Francisco ain't exactly the safest town right now," answered Kid. "I'd like to get my family outta here."

"It's dark, and there's a curfew in town. We can't go tonight. It's dangerous."

Kid's jaw tightened in frustration, but he knew the truth of the man's words. The blasting hadn't stopped the fire, merely turned it. Only fresh firefighting units were supposed to be on the streets tonight.

"First thing tomorrow morning, we go to Golden Gate Park."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	8. Coyotes in the Lobby, Wolves in the Dini

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

References to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 8: Coyotes in the Lobby, Wolves in the Dining room

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Are you outta your mind?" huffed Silky. He jabbed his cane at the wheelbarrow. "Even if you could push it that far, _which I highly doubt_ , I ain't riding in that thing all the way to the Daly ranch."

"Silky…," began Heyes, but another voice cut him off.

"Mr. O'Sullivan sir," called Harold.

Heyes turned to see Silky's chauffer. The missing man stood at the edge of their encampment. Harold held his once dashing cap, now streaked with soot and ash, in his hands.

"About time you showed up," huffed Silky. The white haired man's chin jutted out. "Where have you been for the past two days?"

"I came as soon as I could," replied Harold. "The army… they commandeered the Tonneau… I didn't think you'd want just anybody driving it."

"So you let the army commandeer you too!" exploded Silky. "Harold Beeblemeister ain't I taught you any better? I told your father I'd watch out for you while he was in Boston, but…"

Silky's tirade continued. Heyes stepped closer to the chauffer. It was a relief to see the young man, although he didn't know when he'd ever seen the fastidious man so dirty. Even the ends of Harold's narrow, waxed moustache were coated in gray ash.

"Don't let Silky con you Harold," advised Heyes in a low undertone. "He's been really worried about you."

Harold Beeblemeister, son of a former member of the Devil's Hole Gang known by some as the Boston Bandit, grinned at Heyes.

"Pa always said Silky's bark was worse than his bite."

"I don't know if I'd go so far as to say that," smirked Heyes.

Silky's rant ended with a huff. The old man lifted his cane from the ground and prodded Harold's shoulder.

"Well?" demanded the white haired man.

"Well what?" blinked Harold, turning his attention back to Silky.

"Ya ninny!" exploded Silky. "Didn't you hear a thing I just said? Do you have the Tonneau?"

"Yes sir," answered the driver. "Over there."

Harold pointed to the access road where the military transports had loaded volunteers. The fine vehicle was dusty and dirty and had a crease in the front door panel, but otherwise looked fine.

"What are the roads like?" Heyes hesitated. "We want to get out of San Francisco as quickly as possible."

"Then you don't want to head towards the Daly ranch," replied Harold. "People are walking, riding bicycles, pushing carriages…"

Harold glanced at the wheelbarrow and sniffed disdainfully.

"That would probably fit right in."

"Can you get us to the ferry terminal?"

"A lot of the streets aren't safe for driving and we'll have to go around the fires," acknowledged Harold. "But I can do it."

Heyes faced Clem, Silky, Arthur and Jennifer.

"New plan," declared Heyes with a broad grin. "Get everything you want to bring and let's get in the Tonneau. We're getting out of San Francisco."

It wasn't until they had everything loaded up in the plush car, including the wheelbarrow tied to the rear hood, that Heyes noticed something missing.

"Jennifer, where's Emily Anne?"

The blonde child pointed over back at the next camp. In Silky's words, the Wilkerson's had a passel of children. Nine boys and only one girl.

"I gave Emily Anne to Lilah," answered Jennifer. "She needs a doll more than I do."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Traffic is only one way on this street," explained the corporal. He pointed to the left. "The next road over is going the other direction.

Kid nodded. The rubble strewn street couldn't handle two way traffic now. He held on tight to the frame of the military transport. Kyle scrunched down in the seat between Kid and the solder. The corporal swerved to go around a pack mule laden with boxes, a rolled up rug and two straight back chairs.

"Are you sure you know how to drive?" quavered Kyle.

The affronted corporal turned to glare at Kyle. Kid reached across and grabbed the steering wheel.

"Yes I know how to drive!" huffed the corporal before he faced the road again.

A few hair raising minutes later, the corporal stepped on the breaks. The clanky transport shuddered to a stop by the entrance to the park. Kid gazed at the rising tent city in the fields. People swarmed everywhere. This didn't look like a place his partner would bring Clem, Arthur and Jennifer.

"How am I ever gonna find them?"

"There's an access road that goes around the perimeter of the park," suggested the corporal. "I don't have to be back to quarters until ten. If you want, I could drive you."

Kid tightened his lips into a sorta smile. He wasn't going to criticize the man's driving. After all the soldier didn't have to drive them around. The corporal's erratic driving was his attempt to be helpful.

"Yeah, but slowly," nodded Kid. "I want to be able to see people's faces."

The military transport creeped down the access road. The further into the park they drove, the less crowded it became. The corporal rounded a curve and a small pond appeared. A stand of Monterey Pines sheltered a large family. A boy of about ten held a yellow haired doll aloft and ran, looking over his shoulder as he was chased by a younger squealing girl.

"Stop the car!"

Kid had the door open and clambered out before the tires had completed stopped. Two quick steps brought Kid into the path of the running boy. The imp skidded to a stop right in front of Kid. The boy held the yellow haired ragdoll high over his head.

"That's my daughter's doll."

The squealing girl reached them. The child jumped up and down trying to reach the ragdoll.

"Gimme my doll!"

"What's going on here?" shouted a rotund man with a walrus moustache.

"Elwood, give your sister that doll!" called a woman who was obviously in the family way.

"Fine! I don't want the dumb doll anyway!"

The boy threw the doll straight up in the air and then raced off as his parents approached. Kid's hand shot out and caught the handmade doll on its descent. The little girl's bottom lip trembled. She let out a huge wail.

"Gimme my dolly!"

"What do you think you're doing?" huffed an irate father as he reached Kid.

"I'm looking for my daughter," answered Kid. "This is her doll."

"What makes you say that?" objected the big bellied man. "The world is full of dolls with yarn hair and button eyes."

Kid rubbed his thumb across the gingham dress. The blue fabric had a bright paisley print with shades of turquoise and brown speckles.

"This doll was a birthday gift," stated the attentive man. "My wife made a gingham dress for my daughter and cut the doll's dress from the same fabric. I've only seen one doll with yellow yarn hair and blue button eyes just like this."

"Emily Anne is my doll," wailed the child. "Jennifer said so!"

Kid knelt in front of the child and held the doll out towards her as the child's mother finally reached them.

"Did Jennifer give you this doll?"

The girl nodded, snatched the doll from his grasp and retreated behind her mother's skirt.

"Jennifer's looks just like you," smiled the woman. "You must be her father."

"Where is Jennifer?" Kid held his breath. "And Joshua, Clem, Arthur…"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Stop!" shouted Heyes.

Harold stomped on a pedal. Brakes squealed as the Tonneau came to a stop beside the broken shell of a building. The car shuddered and the engine stalled out. Clem clutched at Heyes. Her hazel eyes stared at the ruined building before them.

"Is this the Palace?"

"What's left of it," nodded Heyes.

Some men were digging in the rubble. A pack mule was tied off to one side. A white cloth draped over the animal's back was painted with a sign. Heyes gaped.

"Safes opened." Heyes pointed. "I can help, I know how to open a safe."

Clem reached out and grasped his hand in both of hers.

"We're going home," reminded Clem with a sweet smile. "Remember?"

"We ain't going anywhere until I get this automobile started up again," grumbled Harold. "Joshua, would you give me a hand with the crankshaft?"

Heyes opened the back door and stepped out onto the running board. He strode around to the front of the automobile and put his hands on his hips.

"What do you want me to do?"

Harold huffed and got out as well. He raised the hood on the fancy car.

"Can we get out?" Arthur wriggled. "Something is poking me."

Although most of their camp possessions were in the boot, the children's carpet bags and a few other odds and ends were crammed into the back seat with Heyes, Clem, Arthur and Jennifer.

"Let me see if I can rearrange things," offered Clem. "You and Jennifer sit on the running board."

"Can we…"

"No!" both Heyes and Clem responded. "Sit right there and don't move."

With the hood up, and Harold explaining the mysteries of combustion engines, Heyes couldn't be faulted for not noticing a military vehicle squeal down the street. Clem couldn't have seen it either as she reached under the back seat to retrieve a cup that had rolled out of sight. And the children seated on the running board watching the men dig through the rubble and the mule swat its tail couldn't see the street at all. Only Silky saw a curly haired passenger pointing out obstacles to the wayward driver.

"I must be seeing things," grumbled the centenarian.

"What did you say Silky?" called Heyes.

"Nothing," groused Silky. "Some fella rode by. From the back of his head, he looked just like your partner."

"Couldn't be," replied Heyes. "Thaddeus is in Wyoming."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Thanks for your help."

Kid nodded at the young corporal as he stepped from the army transport. A dazed Kyle crawled out of the vehicle after Kid.

"I wish I could help you more…"

"But you have a job to do." Kid smiled at the soldier. "And so do we."

Tires squealed as the soldier pulled away from the ferry terminal. Kid steered Kyle into the building. Blue eyes narrowed and looked around the cavernous lobby. Spotting the ticket counter, Kid loped across the room. The man behind the booth looked up at his approach.

"I'm looking for some folks and hope I haven't missed them. When did the last ferry leave?" demanded Kid.

"We haven't had any ferries leave this morning," answered the clerk. "The captain of the U.S.S. Chicago commandeered all boats in the area to help evacuate folks from fire zones."

"Then they couldn't have left yet," breathed Kid.

"Well where are they?" Kyle looked around the empty lobby in confusion. "I don't see them."

"There was a man here earlier, maybe he went upstairs to the main dining room," suggested the clerk.

"Did he have a woman and two children with him?"

"Dunno." The clerk shrugged and pointed to the stairs. "I only saw the man."

Kid turned quickly. Kyle had to run to catch up with Kid's long steps. Neither man heard the last of the clerk's description… _fella with straight hair, blond starting to go gray_. The smaller man panted as they reached the staircase landing and turned to go up the last flight of steps

"They gotsta be here, right?"

"I sure hope so," answered Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Oh that is a sight for sore eyes," Clem smiled at the ferry terminal building.

Harold pulled the Tonneau up in front of the building, easing the automobile to a stop. Heyes hopped out and turned to help Clem down, then Arthur and Jennifer. In the front, Harold helped Silky down to stand on the walkway.

"Silky, Harold, why don't you both come back to Wyoming with us?" suggested Heyes.

The slender man hauled out a carpet bag. Heyes passed it to Arthur. The boy looked at it, shook his head and passed it to Jennifer.

"Nah," objected Silky. "We've gotta get going."

"Where?" Heyes prodded. "Do you really want to go back to the park? Your home is gone."

Silky looked over his shoulder at the smoldering city and sniffed. Heyes reached for the second carpet bag. He caught a glimpse of Jennifer whispering into Clem's ear.

"The land is still there," reminded the wily man. "If they ever get this fire out, we'll rebuild."

"Last night, Han Li let me park the Tonneau in his warehouse," added Harold. "I'm sure he'd let us stay there again if you don't want to go back to the park."

"You saw Han Li?"

A spark of hope soared. Heyes hadn't let himself think about his old friend since he'd first looked out the window at the Palace. He'd been afraid to. The devastation from the earthquake seemed to have hit Chinatown especially hard.

"Is he alright?"

"He was yesterday when I saw him," answered Harold.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Heyes saw Jennifer tug on Clem's sleeve. Clem nodded to the child, then she stepped forward and took Silky's hands in hers.

"Silky, I just want to thank you for everything," Clem said hurriedly.

The centenarian blushed when she pressed a kiss on his wrinkled cheek. Clem turned to Heyes.

"Joshua, Arthur, we'll meet you inside."

"What? Where are you going?" protested Heyes.

Clem grabbed Jennifer by the hand and headed towards the ornate entrance. The child clutched her carpet bag awkwardly beneath one arm.

"Wait for us!"

"Ladies room," trilled Clem. Without a backward glance she waved a hand overhead.

"Wait up," called Heyes. "We'll go with you."

The narrow-hipped man stepped forward, but Arthur didn't budge. The front door to the ferry terminal opened, and swung shut behind Clem and Jennifer.

"Pa, my Dao, it's in the boot!" shouted Arthur.

"What? Why is it in there?"

"Ma," reminded Arthur. The twelve year old crossed his arms over his. He mimicked Clem's tone. "You're gonna poke someone with that thing if you're not careful."

Heyes and Harold untied the wheelbarrow to open the boot. Six blankets, a pillow and a shout _"Be careful with that vase!"_ followed before Heyes pulled the ornamental sword out of the rear compartment. He handed the weapon to his son. As he and Harold repacked the boot, Heyes looked at his old friends.

"You sure you want to stay?" Heyes prodded. "Wyoming is nice this time of year."

Harold shook his head and tucked the last blanket around the vase. Silky sniffed

"Nah, this is home," objected Silky. "I'm gonna fix my town if I have to put it back together piece by piece all by myself!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"They ain't nobody here," observed Kyle.

Kid looked around the dining room. Wide paned glass windows overlooked the harbor. Except for themselves and the furnishings, the dining room appeared empty.

"They've got to be here somewhere," grumbled Kid.

The curly haired man stalked back out to the walkway overlooking the lobby below. The door on the far side of the building swung open. A familiar tiny woman and a dear little girl stepped inside. Kid grinned in relief. For a moment his throat was tight and he couldn't speak. He raised his hand and waved, but they didn't see him. Clem quickly shepherded Jennifer into a narrow corridor, they turned the corner and were gone from sight before he could shout.

"Huh?" Kid blinked. How could they disappear so quickly? "Wait here Kyle. Keep an eye out for Joshua and Arthur."

"What do I do if I see them?"

"Don't lose them!" ordered Kid.

Kid hurried to the staircase. He reached the landing at midpoint and turned his back on the lobby to proceed downwards. He didn't see a broad shouldered man follow Clem and Jennifer's path down the corridor.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Harold pressed a slip of paper into Heyes' hand.

"What's this?"

"My Aunt Esme's telephone number in Boston," answered Harold. He smiled ruefully. "If you have a chance to call, would you let Pa, Ma and the girls know I'm alright?"

"Sure," nodded Heyes.

Harold settled Silky in the front seat and walked around the automobile to climb in the driver's seat. Heyes pressed the front door shut and grinned up at his old friend. He dangled Silky's goggles from his finger.

"Missing something?"

"Where did you find these?"

The white haired man snatched them before Heyes could answer.

"In the boot."

Silky pulled his goggles over his eyes and then peered through the lenses at Heyes.

"The next time you come to San Francisco, you be sure and tell your partner I expect him to come too."

"I'll tell Thaddeus that," smiled Heyes.

"Harold, let's go," ordered Silky.

Heyes and Arthur waved as Silky and drove off. The boy turned to his father.

"Do you think anyone can put this town back together?"

"They will," replied Heyes with a confident grin. "Now, let's go find your mother and Jennifer."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Kid's heels clicked on the tile in the narrow corridor. The echo of voices sounded in the confined space. The muscular man didn't recognize the deep male voice.

"Here I am, getting ready to leave this town, and you two walk in," gloated the man. "This must be my lucky day."

"Keep away."

Kid recognized Clem's agitated tone. As her frightened words registered. Kid broke out into a run.

"You're not coming anywhere near this child," the tiny woman's voice quavered.

Kid rounded the corner to see the corridor ended in a wide antechamber with two doors on either side of Clem. A derringer wobbled in her hand. Behind Clem, Jennifer's frightened face peered around her shoulder. A big man in an army greatcoat stood with his back to Kid.

"First give me the bag." The man's oily voice urged.

"Don't come any closer," warned Clem. "I will shoot…"

With one swift movement the man stepped forward and slapped the derringer from Clem's tiny hand. The gun skittered across the tile floor. The man shoved Clem to the side. The tiny woman screamed loud and shrill as she hit the floor. Jennifer backed up shoulders against the wall, clutching her carpet bag, blue eyes wide and fearful. The man stepped closer. His hand stretched out toward the child.

"I don't wanna hurt you kid, just give me the bag."

Kid pounced. He grabbed the man by shoulder with his left hand and spun him around. His huge right fist balled up and headed automatically for the man's nose. The man's blue eyes widened in surprise.

"You!"

Kid's fist connected before the man could say another word, sending the man sprawling. Blood poured out of the man's flattened nose.

"Papa!"

Kid didn't have time to do anything else but hug his daughter.

"Jennifer, are you all right?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light inside the ferry terminal. A shout caused him to look up.

"Kyle?" Heyes blinked again, this time in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"They went thattaway!"

Kyle pointed. Heyes turned. He saw a corridor off one side of the lobby. And then he heard a scream.

"Clem!"

"Ma!"

Heyes and his son raced towards the sound. Turning the corner in the narrow corridor, Heyes pulled up short, confused. Kid stood in the center of the room. His partner's arms were around Jennifer. The girl was crying, shoulders shaking, her face buried in his chest as he patted her on the back. Near the left side wall, a man with a bloody nose groaned. But Heyes' eyes were only on the tiny woman pushing herself up off the tile floor on the right side of the corridor.

"Clem."

Heyes skidded across the floor falling to his knees to take Clem in his arms. He touched both of his hands to her face, patting her cheeks, her hair, moving his hands down to her shoulders.

"Are you alright?"

She shook her head and pointed. Heyes turned to see his son whip out the Dao and place the sharp tip of the sword against the injured man's throat.

"Don't even try," warned Arthur.

The man's searching fingers stilled over the pocket of his uniform coat.

"You're in a world of trouble boy, I'm a police officer," barked an almost familiar voice. The rapidly swelling nose gave the man's voice an odd tone. "I've got a badge in my pocket."

Kid shot the man a hard glare, but before he could say anything the rushing sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor. A policeman, followed by Kyle, came into view.

"What's going on here?" demanded the police officer.

The lawman glared at every one in the room. His eyes only softened when the policeman's gaze reached Jennifer and then Clem.

"That awful man," Clem raised a shaky hand and pointed across the room. "He tried to attack us."

"It isn't the first time either," added Arthur. "This is the same fella that tried to steal Jennifer's carpetbag Wednesday."

Heyes stiffened at his son's words. He'd been so concerned over Clem's safety that he hadn't looked closely at the man across the room. His stomach did a flip flop as he realized how close Briggs came to his family.

"Step aside boy," ordered the policeman.

Arthur backed away, keeping a wary eye on the man on the floor. The policeman knelt in front of the bloody faced man and hauled him up into a sitting position. Heyes could tell the moment his partner recognized the man with the flattened, bloody nose. Blue eyes met brown in a wordless communication. Heyes gave a small shake of his head. Now was not the time.

"Aw, now Joey what kinda trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?" grinned the policeman before he began to pat down Briggs.

"You know this fella?" Kid's shocked tone was evident. "He's really a policeman?"

"Oh I know him alright, but Joey ain't the law," scoffed the officer. "He just tries to get folks to think he is."

The policeman plucked the revolver from the shoulder holster beneath Briggs' uniform jacket. He held it up for all to see before he tucked the gun inside one of his own cavernous coat pockets.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," muttered the policeman. "Joey didn't Judge O'Connor tell you part of your parole was that you were not to carry any firearms? That means no guns. None."

Without giving Briggs a chance to answer the question, the policeman shook his head and then reached back to Briggs' coat. The badge appeared next.

"This here badge is fake," explained the policeman. "Pretty shoddy imitation if you ask me."

The policeman pocketed the tinny metal circle as well. A knife and a set of brass knuckles soon joined the confiscated items. Arthur finally sheathed the Dao. The real policeman looked across the floor at the derringer.

"I'm gonna have to confiscate that too."

"Go right ahead officer," smiled Heyes. "None of us want to interfere with a lawman performing his official duties."

"Illegally carrying a pistol, impersonating an officer of the law," the policeman started listing the charges against Briggs. His voice hardened. "Joey, I've got enough to place you under arrest without even asking these fine folks what you were doing here."

"You ought to arrest them too!"

The policeman tilted his head and looked at Briggs quizzically.

"For what?"

"They're smugglers! They're using the kid to carry…" Briggs voice trailed off.

"To carry what?" prompted the policeman.

"I don't know what," huffed Briggs. His face darkened with rage and in a petulant tone he added, "But it's something."

"There is nothing in that carpetbag but dirty clothes and a phonograph record," snapped Clem.

"And a chocolate bar," added Jennifer. "For Mama's birthday."

"No money? No jewels? Anything of value at all?"

Clem and Jennifer shook their heads. The policeman sighed.

"Here I was looking forward to making a big arrest for attempted grand larceny, I guess this will just be petty theft…"

"You might want to ask the army about that uniform he's wearing," suggested Kid. "Someone robbed a soldier of his uniform and a fancy rifle."

"You can't prove I was anywhere near Van Ness yesterday!"

Kid's eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze at Briggs.

"I didn't say anything about Van Ness," stated Kid, his voice cold and hard.

"It wasn't me," insisted Briggs. "I didn't have anything to do with that shooting."

"I didn't say anything about a shooting either."

The policeman exchanged a glance with Kid.

"Someone took potshots at some firemen and me yesterday," explained Kid. "The army found their gun. I think they'd be real interested in finding out who was shooting it."

"So Joey, did you leave fingerprints?" grinned the policeman.

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and tightened them on the bully's wrists before he hauled Briggs to his feet.

"I'll take him into the main lobby to wait for the paddy wagon," added the officer. "When you folks get done in here, I'll need a statement from each of you."

He turned and frog-marched Briggs down the corridor leaving the little group from Thunder Ridge staring at each other. Kid wiped the last traces of Jennifer's tears. The girl straightened up and gave her father a shaky smile. She gestured towards the door marked _Ladies._

"If you'll excuse me a minute."

Clem followed Jennifer into the ladies room with a comment about fixing her hair. Arthur looked at the door marked _Gentlemen_.

"Be right back."

The boy disappeared inside and then Kyle followed, leaving Heyes staring at his partner.

"What are you doing here?" Heyes tried to look affronted, but it was hard when he was so glad to see his partner. "You're supposed to be home, safe, in Wyoming!"

"I came to…"

"I don't need you watching my back all the time," interrupted Heyes.

"Didn't say you did," Kid's quiet voice responded. "But you know I ain't never been the kinda fella to just sit by when there's trouble."

Heyes' lips curled up in a broad smile, his dimples deepened and a soft chuckle burbled up from his throat. He wouldn't have it any other way. Heyes stepped forward to wrap his cousin in a big hug.

"It's good to see you Thaddeus."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I don't see anyone greeting folks at the top of the gangplank," Heyes craned his neck.

A late afternoon ferry brought the little group to Oakland. Kid peered through the crowd as they followed Clem, Arthur, Jennifer and Kyle up the gangplank, but their kind friend was nowhere to be seen.

"Reverend Spencer was there I tell you."

"I'm not doubting you…"

"But it is an awfully big coincidence to see two people from West Bend after so long," concluded Kid.

"I would have liked to have seen him before we go."

"Yeah, but we don't have time to go looking for him if we're gonna make the 615 outta here," reminded Kid.

"And Clem's not gonna let us miss that train," chuckled Heyes.

Heyes slowed his stride to watch his wife walk up the gangplank, her hips swaying from side to side. A flash of ankle showed as she stepped onto the pier.

"What are you grinning about Joshua?"

"Just admiring the view Thaddeus," replied Heyes. "Just admiring the view."

Kid looked across the bay. The sky was still gray, but the smoke was lifting. Little dots of orange still blazed, but the wall of fire was gone. There was even a touch of blue sky on the horizon.

"Yeah, it's getting better," agreed Kid.

"What?" Heyes turned to look at his partner and then realized what Kid was referring to. "Yeah, I'm sure the folks in San Francisco will rebuild."

The slender man stepped onto the wide pier and hurried forward to link arms with Clem for the short stroll to the Oakland Train station. Kid caught Jennifer by the hand. He swung Jennifer's carpetbag in his other hand, careful not to bump anyone in the crowded town. As they approached the depot building, Heyes saw an open warehouse door. Beneath the red banner a familiar figure with a turned around collar handed out coffee, bread and words of comfort to refugees. Heyes stopped for a moment. Reverend Spencer looked up. He caught Heyes' eye and smiled. A horn blasted, announcing the approach of the 615. Spencer waved his hand and turned back to the next person in need.

"He looks happy," observed Kid. "Don't he?"

"Yeah Thaddeus, he does," smiled Heyes.

"Well I won't be happy if we miss that train. Come on now," urged Clem.

The train chugged into the station and pulled to a stop. People began disembarking. Kyle saw them first.

"Lookey there," grinned Kyle.

Three cars down, a tall blonde young woman dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt with a man's gun belt draped over her shoulder stepped off the train. Another girl dressed in denim followed Eliza. Hannah clasped little Amanda by one hand. Matt stepped off the train next with one hand firmly on Carolyn and the other on Charlotte. Wheat stepped off the train last. The burly man carried carpetbags under each arm, and dangled another from each hand.

"Mama!" squealed Jennifer.

The eleven year old tugged free from Kid's hand. Kid stood rooted to the spot. He stared, watching as Jennifer ran, dodging in and out of oncoming pedestrians, to join her mother. Arthur started to follow, but Clem's hand grabbed Arthur by the shoulder.

"Wait here, give them a moment."

Heyes saw Matt's face light up when she saw Jennifer. Mother and daughter hugged tightly before the rest of the Jones girls ganged up on the pair and they disappeared from Heyes' sight. Wheat looked on, astounded for a moment, then he dropped the carpet bags and made his way to Kid, Heyes, Clem, Arthur and Kyle. Kid eyed Wheat.

"I thought I told you to take my daughter home."

"You did," agreed the burly former outlaw. "You didn't say nothing about keeping her there."

Kid might have argued the point, but at that moment Matt stepped out from the girls. The tall woman turned her head this way and that, searching. Her eyes caught Kid's. A relieved smile flashed across her face. And then Kid and Matt were both moving towards each other, drawn by an invisible need. They met in a warm embrace of arms and hungry kisses.

"How can they breathe like that?"

"Sssh," admonished Clem.

Arthur's analytic question brought a smirk to Heyes' face.

"It's something you'll understand when you're older," added Heyes.

Wheat leaned in closer to Heyes.

"You know we's gonna have to break that up, iffen we're gonna get on the train and head back home."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What are you doing here?" greeted Kid. "I thought you were asleep."

"Looking for you," answered Heyes.

He'd awakened to find his partner missing. All the other residents of Thunder Ridge were inside sleeping on the hard seats or curled up on the floor in the last train car. It didn't take much for Heyes to find Kid standing on the rear deck of the car, his arms pressed forward on the railing. Brooding, judged Heyes, but what was troubling Kid?

"What are you doing up?" prodded Heyes.

"Thinkin'," replied Kid.

Heyes leaned forward, resting his arms on the railing next to his partner.

"About Briggs?"

"Nah, I told him what would happen if I ever saw him again."

Heyes had seen his partner stop by the side of the paddy wagon. Kid spoke in a low tone. Heyes hadn't heard what was said exactly, but he had a good idea it was very similar to what he'd told Briggs just a few minutes earlier.

"You didn't threaten Briggs, did you?"

"No," answered Kid. "I made Briggs a promise."

"What kind of promise?"

"You know what kinda promise."

Heyes sucked in a deep breath.

"Good thing I didn't get a chance to speak with Spencer again before we left," continued Kid.

"Huh?"

"Spencer's got a way of looking at you," reminded Kid. "He might think I was backsliding."

"And you're worried about that?"

"No," Kid shook his head.

"Then what's bothering you?" exploded Heyes in frustration. "And don't tell me nothing's bothering you! Cause something's bothering you!"

It was a full minute before Kid spoke again.

"Eliza got a scholarship," mumbled Kid. "Gonna go to some fancy college back East."

Now it was Heyes turn to be quiet. His mind raced. Scholarship good. College good. Back East? Was that it?

"That's a good thing, right?" nudged Heyes.

"Yes!" shot out Kid.

"You should be happy for her."

"I am," protested Kid.

Heyes clapped an arm around his partner's shoulders.

"Then act happy," smirked Heyes. "You didn't want her to grow up to be a leader of a band of outlaws, did you?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A/N2:

Title of this chapter is a line of dialogue in the episode "The McCreedy Bust: Going, Going, Gone!"

Photo from San Francisco Virtual Museum: Wreckage of the Palace Hotel, sign on horse reads "Safes Opened."


End file.
